


No More Hiding, No More Secrets

by ilyena_sylph, Merfilly



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anidala, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Padmé is not even having with this, Padmé is the smart one as usual, poking lots of issues, seriously emotional hurt, sometimes the truth really can save you, talking it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:35:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6643444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilyena_sylph/pseuds/ilyena_sylph, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Padmé wants is for Anakin to be safe from his fears, especially where Obi-Wan is concerned. After all, she saw that same look on Obi-Wan's face, long ago in Theed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No More Hiding, No More Secrets

Padmé had kept herself nearly glued to Anakin's side through the evacuation of Geonosis, facing off against Master Windu's attempt to get near him with a snap that _she_ had made the decision to come here to help Obi-Wan and Anakin had been obligated -- under protest -- to accompany her (while she kept her right hand firmly wrapped around Anakin's left wrist, behind her body). Master Windu had glared at her, but he had other duties to see to, and he had swept away again as some of the troopers (and she was going to have **words** about all of this, the expense and its very existence, later) who seemed to be medical staff had approached to offer Anakin their aid. 

At least she hadn't had to glare much before he agreed, and they had promptly whisked him into surgery. That left her slightly at loose ends, standing outside the surgical ward of the capital ship, and trying to decide what to do. Ani would expect her to keep his secrets, and from all others she would, but there was one man she thought might understand what had happened to her beloved. Her beloved, _her_ Anakin, saints and stars help them all. 

She forced that away, down under her composure, and went to find one Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi. 

++++

He hadn't been that difficult to find, thankfully, and she came to a halt a meter or so from him, trying to judge how he was feeling... and mostly failing. "Knight Kenobi," she said softly, "I need to speak with you. Privately." 

"As you wish, Senator," he said, blanking away his fatigue and pain so that he could give her his attention.

She glanced around them, trying to see if there was anyone nearby. No... but this hallway was not somewhere for them to talk. Not about this. She took a few steps and laid her fingers on the panel, relaxing a little when it opened and she stepped inside, waiting for him. 

He came in, looked around to be certain of privacy, and folded his hands inside the sleeves of the too-large robe that had been given to him to ward off shock. His injuries were far less critical than Anakin's and there were others far more injured, both among the Jedi and the troops that had saved them.

"What can I do for you, Senator?"

Padmé took a slow breath, considering what she was about to do, how much this would hurt Anakin if she was wrong, if she was trusting the wrong person... but she was so afraid for him, afraid of what she'd seen -- and the last time she had seen a look as wild and as dangerous as the one on Anakin's face... it had been on this man.

"There are some things you need to know -- but first, **I** need your word, on Master Jinn's memory, that you will _help_ Anakin, not -- not whatever it is he's so afraid of with you." 

Obi-Wan blinked at her in confusion. "I am his teacher... though probably not for long, given today," he said, his grief barely held at bay for the loss of so many Knights and Masters alike. "I am bound to help him." He felt uneasy; there were secrets here, ones that could too easily break his padawan, or maybe this promising Senator's career. Still, he was responsible for Anakin, as a long-dead voice reminded in the final words he'd heard from his own Master through his memories.

"Mm-hm," Padmé murmured, watching him, knowing her eyes were sharp and unable -- or unwilling -- to change it. She had to protect Anakin, so she was going to get that promise, one way or another. "He thinks that you will not understand, that you cannot understand... but I saw your face, that day in Theed. I think that you can." 

He could not help but be more guarded then. He'd never really been able to grieve his Master. It was against the Code to be attached, and Jedi were not supposed to dwell on the past. Yet... Qui-Gon's death had cut through him like the lightsaber had pierced his own chest. To hear it mentioned now -- 

"Anakin is a headstrong young man, who rarely listens to me as it is," Obi-Wan finally said. "Yet you somehow think I can hurt him. Interesting." He did not intend to sound cold or frustrated; he was merely at wits' end on how he could be the Jedi he needed to be, for Anakin, for the Order.

Padmé felt her hands clench into fists, that cool remoteness making her want to snarl at him like she hadn't since she was a child fighting with her sister. She didn't, trying to figure out how to get through to him, to convince him to be a man, a friend, the almost-father Anakin said he was instead of the -- the distant, removed Jedi she could barely recognize as the young man with the braid and the brilliant smile. She nearly bit into her tongue... and then let her temper out anyway.

"I 'somehow think' you can -- oooooh," she heard her voice hit three pitches as she glared at him, her mouth tightening, "do you _really_ have no idea how desperately he needs your acceptance, your praise?! Do you _really_ not know how central to his world you are?! 

"I haven't seen you two in ten years and **I** can hear that every time he mentions you!" 

//I should not be.// The thought was visceral, as Obi-Wan had struggled to keep his training of Anakin on the most Code-approved level he could, being a guide, a teacher, even a friend... but he had wished Anakin to never, ever know the crushing pain of loss that came with the violent snap of a bond reinforced by forbidden attachment.

"I _am_ his friend, Senator," he said stiffly. "But there is a need for detachment, to handle the proper training of a Jedi."

Padmé stared at him for several long moments, unable to believe what she had just heard, then raked her hand through her hair as she reconsidered her choice. She _knew_ Anakin needed this man, had been able to hear how much his hot rage was covering a desperate scream of need... but if that was what this man truly thought... 

"Then maybe he's right after all," she murmured, a terrible feeling building up in her. "Maybe I'm wrong in thinking you can help him." 

"Why, Senator, are you so convinced he needs _my_ help?" Obi-Wan asked, just to unravel this mystery. "Despite our repeated debates over proper etiquette and how to execute a mission, Anakin has thrived as a Jedi Padawan, and will make an excellent Knight, if I am correct on what will happen now."

She tipped her head slightly, looking squarely at his eyes, as she debated between answering and not, between listening to the instincts that had guided her well for so long and her anger at this bearded stranger that was only vaguely like the young man she remembered. It was several long moments before she spoke, and when she did, it was to repeat her condition. She would protect Anakin first, foremost, forever, and if his teacher would not give it... then she was making the wrong decision here. "Your word, Knight Kenobi, before I answer that." 

Obi-Wan held that gaze a long moment, weighing. If Anakin was in need, if he had neglected to see some problem... then he'd failed Qui-Gon even harder than he'd been thinking he had for all these years. How had Qui-Gon ever expected him to succeed with a boy so different from any Obi-Wan had ever known?! That thought made his guilt heavier, and he drew in a deep breath, agreeing to the necessity of the situation.

"My word, Senator."

She breathed out a sigh of relief, and nodded slowly. "I think you are possibly the only one that can help him... because the last time I saw a look as terrible -- as enraged, and agonized, and horribly resolute -- as the one on Anakin's face on Tatooine... was on your face, that day in Theed, when you brought Master Jinn's body out." 

Obi-Wan wanted to protest. He'd done his duty that day... surely he hadn't revealed his greatest sin so baldly.

//Qui-Gon, why?// He wasn't even certain what he was demanding to know this time, only… questioning everything since that day on Naboo. He shoved that away from himself, almost reflexively casting the pain into the Force to take it away, subduing his unruly heart.

"Why did he go to Tatooine?" Obi-Wan asked, his thoughts flicking briefly over the dreams that had plagued Anakin recently, dreams he refused to shunt away as dangerous emotion-stirrers. He figured that they were the reason, but he had to be certain. "I distinctly remember telling him to take you to Naboo and stay there," Obi-Wan said firmly.

"So you did," Padmé agreed, "but I could only listen to him scream in the night so many times, hear him that desperate, before I... told him I was going to Tatooine with him." That Anakin had been prepared to leave without her, to face the Council's punishment for that, she would keep to herself. And she had not lied. 

Well, there was the rub. Anakin's specific orders had been to protect Padmé. "What happened on Tatooine?"

At least he had flinched, just slightly, at her blunt phrasing. Maybe her instincts weren't as wrong as she'd first thought, when they began to talk. "We landed in Mos Espa -- still such a _charming_ place, really -- and went to that... shop." She let her distaste drip from her words there, and went on. "It was the only place either of us could think of _to_ start. That Toydarian had sold her, years ago, but he told Anakin to who fairly quickly." 

Slavery. It did rankle, but Obi-Wan had been so busy, trying to live up to the Council's demands on them, trying to keep Anakin on track... Qui-Gon would have been disappointed, no doubt, that he'd never done anything to aid the child's mother.

"And you found her... badly?" he surmised.

She snorted at him. If Shmi had only been badly hurt, she would not be nearly as frightened for Anakin as she was. 

"It wasn't difficult to find the farm, or the rest of the family. She had been lucky, the man that _bought_ her freed her, and married her. Anakin has a stepbrother, now, a good young man, to my eyes. And Threepio was there. That's -- that's when we knew something was wrong, when Threepio wouldn't talk to Anakin. Shmi's husband, Cliegg... he was in a repulsor-chair, one leg missing, the other heavily bandaged and badly wounded. He had other injuries, as well. Ani asked for his mother, and Cliegg took us inside." 

Obi-Wan would not let this cut into his heart. He could not. He had to be a True Jedi. Especially now. He could not abandon his stoicism, not when ... not after seeing that Qui-Gon's past had given yet another dark stain to their history. 

//Thankful I am that you never had to know, Master. You did admire him,// he thought. 

"Anakin's mother died, I take it?" he asked, his voice gentle despite his need to stay strong, to refuse to give voice to his painful awareness he had failed Anakin again.

"She was taken, several weeks ago," Padmé answered, watching Obi-Wan narrowly. "From the wounds I helped clean so that we could lay her to rest decently, she was slowly tortured for the entirety of the time since. But she was still holding on to life -- somehow -- for Anakin to come back to her, when he found her." 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, lowering his face from her gaze. Why hadn't he listened? Duty. Duty was all he truly lived for, and he drug Anakin with him through it, to make Anakin the strong Jedi Qui-Gon would have wanted.

Except... Qui-Gon would have listened.

She was pleased to see that drop of his eyes, the guilt that slipped slowly across his face. Possibly she shouldn't be... but she needed him to understand Anakin's pain, to know he bore part of the responsibility for it. "He's angry with you, yes," she said, soft, "but he's also tearing himself to pieces, doubting himself, hating what he did, almost convinced he's a failure as a Jedi..."

The very soft 'oh, Anakin' was so hard to hear, but Obi-Wan's shoulders slumped even more heavily than just his injuries and fatigue warranted.

"Why?" he made himself ask.

"Because he could not stop himself from... responding... to the presence of the creatures that had spent the last month _torturing his mother_ ," Padmé replied, watching him steadily. "That very lack of control is ripping at him, I think he's afraid of it happening again, and -- " 

Obi-Wan tipped his head slightly to one side, his eyes taking her in without actually seeing her.

He saw the power station, he saw his Master's body laying on the floor, and he could smell the burn and blood of the killing blow he'd struck the Sith down with. He could taste the rage that had coursed through him, the need to kill in vengeance, the wish to make the Sith suffer as he would suffer for the rest of his life. He hadn't dared hope he could reach Qui-Gon in time… and he'd been right not to. All there had been time for was the promise, not even… not even the words Obi-Wan had never said.

"I will speak with him, Padmé, and guide him through this," he said at last.

Padmé breathed out a sigh of relief, nodding -- although she wasn't entirely certain that Obi-Wan had been seeing her at all. No, she thought he was seeing a different time, a different place. She hoped he was, honestly. "Good," she murmured, "I'm glad. 

"Obi-Wan," she continued, soft, "have you ever let yourself grieve for him?" 

He startled out of his memories, and frowned at her. "Senator, there are many differences between our lives. Including how we handle the past, and unavoidable points in life, such as death."

Grieve? How could he? He'd had a scared child to care for and push all the training of a youngling into, to meet the demands placed on him.

Padmé shook her head at him, as gentle as she could be. "So I keep hearing from Anakin... but I know a little bit about losing people." //Cordé, to name only one,// she thought, before she focused on him again. "And I know if you don't face your pain, the loss... you can't, really, let it go and remember the good." 

"There are different attitudes on how one faces things," Obi-Wan said neutrally. "I am Jedi, raised in the Temple. This is one of many things that separates Anakin from the rest of us, Senator." He wanted her to stop pushing. He wanted to keep his interaction with her focused on helping Anakin, nothing else.

Grieving Qui-Gon came with too much guilt and regret, for their unease with one another through that last mission, and for things left unsaid. Obi-Wan hadn't even had hope that he wasn't the only feeling those emotions, after all! If anything, Qui-Gon had seemed more than ready to be rid of him!

Padmé shook her head, watching him, concern in her chest and her throat for this man her Anakin so loved, and she slowly moved a step closer. "There are," she agreed softly, "but the good ones don't leave a good man's eyes so haunted. 

"And yes. I keep hearing that there are many things that separate Ani from the Jedi... which is terrible, given how desperately he wanted to be one of you, from the time he was just a little boy." 

"I am aware of Anakin's wishes," Obi-Wan said. "I have lived the last ten years trying to guide him to that wish!" A touch of heat came into his voice, before he could rein it in.He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose before he spoke again. "Forgive me, Senator. This has been a trying few days."

"There's nothing to forgive, Master Jedi," she replied, soft, her eyes still watching his. "We're all frightened, exhausted, and in pain. 

"Besides, I'd far rather you snap at me than him. He's..." She wasn't sure she had the right words. He was lying in sedated sleep now, which was probably the safest he had been in days. 

"Helping him through the lapse in emotional control, through his worries over it, will be impossible if I lose my patience with him," Obi-Wan said. "Which is why I need to go rest, while he sleeps."

"All right," she murmured softly, stepping back from him. "I think that's one thing we all need right now." 

She hated to let him retreat, but... she could hardly make him stay with her. "Rest well, my friend." 

"And you, Senator." He turned to go… and went straight to where Anakin was being kept sedated, needing to see his padawan with his own eyes, as the training bond was mute… not just the usual stone wall between them.

+++ 

Padmé had left him and gone wandering -- this Grand Army of the Republic troopship had few quarters that felt restful to her, and she wasn't sure where in the depths of it they had stashed her small fighter -- but it wasn't long until her steps drew her back to Anakin's place in medbay. 

Obi-Wan was there, in a chair at the bedside, half-asleep, with his robes drawn so tight around him. He turned his head toward her, blinking a little. A frown rose, and then he smoothed his expression, making to stand and concede the room to her. He had no place here; it was her that his padawan would wish to see.

Padmé shook her head, motioning to him to stay. There was room at the foot of the medical berth for her to settle, and she curled on one hip there, putting her left shoulder back against the bulkhead behind it. The bacta strips across the wounds the nexu had left were working. That didn't mean it didn't hurt some, or that she wanted to lean on that side. "He needs you," she murmured, very softly. 

The 'I do not know why' stayed locked behind his teeth, and Obi-Wan settled back into his chair to rest as best he could, willing the thigh wound to heal on its own. Anakin would most likely provoke an argument on waking, or Obi-Wan would say the wrong thing and get the silent treatment. She would see.

+++

It was testimony to how overwrought Anakin was that it took him so long to sleep off the healer's suggestion to let his body rest. Obi-Wan half-dozed, his robe held tight around him, but the instant awareness began to filter to his padawan, he moved as well, leaning forward from the chair to place a hand lightly on Anakin's arm.

"We are here, Anakin. You are not alone," he said, using a gentle voice and letting the training bond convey serenity... none of which he was truly feeling in this moment.

Padmé almost held her breath, watching as Anakin's eyelids flickered slightly. 

He didn't want to wake up. Right now, everything was quiet. No nightmares, no dreams... just quiet. But the quiet was already broken, a voice in his ears -- possibly the voice he _least_ wanted to hear right now -- that made him flinch.

At that flinch, Obi-Wan pulled back, composing himself in the chair. "Now that I know you are coming around, Anakin, I will leave you with the Senator," he said, tones more formal and distant, as he had strived for through their years together.

He would not let it show how much the flinch had wounded him. How had they managed to be so in sync with one another on every mission, able to overcome any odds… and have nothing to hold them together outside of such?

"Don't," Padmé murmured, glaring at the idiot Jedi Knight in the chair, shaking her head. If he left now... there might never be another chance. "Don't leave him now. Anakin... it's all right, shh, Ani, darling..." 

Anakin blinked, feeling something... strange?

He didn't open his eyes, not wanting to see Obi-Wan, distant and remote and unreachable as ever, not when... not when there was something in the bond that felt _real_ , not just... He opened to it a little, touching that, all too aware that the panic and shame already building on it were going to be obvious... but he'd never wanted to hurt Obi-Wan, and that did feel like hurt. That Padmé was there too....

Obi-Wan swallowed hard against the bond's emotions. He had only wanted to keep Anakin safe! How hard was it to live life, in love, but never able to give in to the tide that was that love?

"Anakin, do you wish me here?" he asked, letting his words go gentle again. "I do not wish to make you uncomfortable. You have been through too much."

That... he hadn't heard Obi-Wan's voice like that in years, and he dared open his eyes, looking towards his Master, confused. Obi-Wan's face was still, carved in stone, save his eyes, which seemed heavy with sadness. Why would Obi-Wan say he had -- his eyes snapped to Padmé, his breathing speeding, searching her face. Had she -- why would she -- hadn't he told her enough that she would -- 

"Anakin," Padmé murmured, seeing the panic and betrayal starting to build in his eyes, the wild light coming up in them, "it's _all right_ , I promise. Do you really think I would ever do anything that would hurt you?" 

His angel? No, of course she would not, but -- she didn't know his Master the way he did, she -- He felt Obi-Wan start to move, and before he knew what he was doing he clutched at the bond, his control of the Force responding as well and latching around his Master.

Obi-Wan felt both holds on him, and sagged into his chair. "I am here, Anakin. I don't want to make you do anything but rest and heal, right now. But I am here, and --" 

How did he reassure his padawan? How did he capture ten years of mistakes, cage them, and make this right?

"I understand, my padawan, far too well. We will talk, when you are ready. But know this... I am neither angry nor disappointed. Because I know what you faced, and I have faced it as well."

He pulled his gaze from his angel, so stunned at the words from his Master that he had to look at him, trying to read his face for the truth he thought he could feel in the bond... _his_ Master had -- he was not -- "Master?" 

Padmé thought her heart was going to shatter, hearing her brave, strong, resolute beloved sound so very young, and so very afraid and lost.

Obi-Wan stopped filtering the bond, let his emotions flow along it. There was worry for Anakin, remembered guilt, new guilt, fear... and a steady, gentle pulse of love and understanding. He could never say it aloud, but emotions did not abide by self-deceptions.

"Shh, Ani," he said, falling back to the old nickname, the one he usually only allowed himself when Anakin fell asleep and had to be coaxed to bed. "Please, let the past wait for us to touch when you are somewhat better."

Nickname, soft and soothing, and Obi-Wan... Obi-Wan actually _there_ in the bond... there and... His breath shook, his left hand snapping out, reaching for his Master, at the baffling, near-impossible, desperately needed _love_ he could feel in it. Love, real and _present_ , not just affection... "Master," he whispered, soft, hopeful, and clung on.

Obi-Wan caught the seeking hand, cupping his own around it, as he leaned toward the bed once more. 

"Shh, my padawan, shh. Please rest more. Please." He was too tired, too drained, to have the conversation that needed to happen. He could feel Anakin was not in the shape for it, and had suffered more trials lately. "I will stay close."

He did let his pride and love flow in the bond, carefully supporting rather than overwhelming. He didn't dare hold back now, not if he wanted to actually help Anakin. His own uselessness had set this all up, after all.

Anakin felt the shudder run through him, but his Master had his hand, his angel's hand was spread light on his thigh, and... and neither of them were angry with him. He was wrapped in his Master's love, love and... pride? Obi-Wan was proud of him? Really? 

He leaned into that, holding on, and nodded once, slowly. He _was_ tired, and the quiet of sleep beckoned stronger every moment. His Master wouldn't leave? "Okay. Good..." he murmured, and looked to Padmé for a moment. 

"Rest, Ani," she agreed, soft-voiced, nodding to him.

Obi-Wan gave a small smile. "Maybe you'll listen better to her than to me, Padawan?" The words were light, and the bond was suffused with indulgent teasing.

Anakin had started to tense... but then there was that soft tone, the indulgent teasing, and he relaxed again, murmuring, "Am listening." To whom, he left unstated, but he did close his eyes again.

Obi-Wan waited, letting the breathing settle. He tried to move back, but Anakin's hand tightened on his, and there was a small noise of protest. As undignified as it was, Obi-Wan just shifted the chair with his legs and rested his head on the bedside, leaving his hand in Anakin's, so that he could get a little sleep as well, hopefully.

Padmé nodded to herself, pleased at having gotten them at least this far, and leaned back, head and shoulder finding the wall again, to steal a little more sleep while she could.

++++

Obi-Wan was stiff and still tired, but he'd slept as much as he could in the awkward position he was in. At least Anakin had released his hand, and he could sit up, making certain to keep the bond as open as he dared so that his Padawan still had some sense of him being close. He needed to use the 'fresher… and despite his attempt to be quiet, his wounded thigh made him stumble some, making the chair scrape on the floor.

His connection with the Force was weaker than usual, probably because of the fight in the arena and then the one against Dooku draining him so badly. When was the last time he'd actually slept in a real bed? Or meditated?

Padmé's eyes snapped open at the sound, her hand dropping to the blaster no longer at her hip, before she remembered where she was, who had to have moved, and looked across the room to Master Kenobi. She'd started to smile sheepishly, but then she saw the pain in his face, the way he was standing, and it shifted to a worried frown. 

Anakin twitched, one eye coming half-open, and Padmé felt it more than saw -- she was watching Obi-Wan -- and she hushed him quietly, her hand resting gently on his thigh. 

Obi-Wan ignored his need for the 'fresher, ignored the pain… and washed the bond in caring love, trying to soothe Anakin back to rest. He truly hadn't want to disturb either of them. He figured it was more Padmé that had soothed him down, but Anakin didn't raise a protest, allowing Obi-Wan to continue his way to the 'fresher.

Padmé could understand that need, so she simply waited for him to return, her head tipped back to drowse. She carefully slipped off the berth when he came back out, watching for Anakin to protest or settle -- he did neither, to any particular amount -- and made the same trip. 

When she came back out, she crouched down carefully next to Obi-Wan's chair, her back straight so that she could look to him. "So what haven't you admitted to needing treated?" she asked, very soft. 

Obi-Wan started to wave her off, but if he couldn't heal it, he should deal with it. "I hadn't found a med-kit," he prevaricated. "I took a severe injury to my thigh, and my shoulder is not responding well, either."

He kept his voice low, then looked at Anakin. "It can wait until he is awake and reassured, though."

She made a face at him -- snorting, much as he deserved it, might wake Ani -- and shook her head. "I'll be right back -- these men seem to recognize me as someone to listen to. I'll get one and be right back."

"You do not have to!" Obi-Wan reached out to physically contain her. "If Anakin wakes, you must be here," he insisted. His face was somber as he said it, but he knew that Anakin had chosen. It was going to be kriffing hard to hide it from the Council, as they'd already let Yoda see the affection between them, but… if she made Anakin happy, how could Obi-Wan deny them? 

"We're in a medbay," she pointed out softly, though she held still for his trying to stop her, "one can't be far. Let me take care of you... before he wakes up and promptly tries, mm?" 

He sighed, looking back at his padawan, something like affection on his face. "He would, stubborn as he is," he admitted. "Alright, Senator."

He kept that title between them, fighting to maintain a level of detachment with her as a shield against betraying Anakin's choices later. If he could just keep up the front on one side, it would become easier as he went.

He was accustomed to lying to himself, to hiding truths, after all. He'd been doing it for so many years. 

"You, of all people, have the right to use my name, Master Jedi," Padmé replied, as she got to her feet, patted one of his hands as he withdrew them, and went to the door to slip back out and find a medkit, saying over her shoulder, "it's Padmé." 

"And I believe it best if I retain some formality with you, Senator, if I am to protect Anakin's chances of happiness," he said firmly, though quietly. He sighed softly, closing his eyes. If he were a better Jedi, he would go ahead and counsel Anakin to voluntarily leave the Order, embrace his life with Padmé… but the galaxy needed every Jedi they could get, especially one so strong.

Obi-Wan could not stand the thought of never seeing his Padawan again, much as he knew that the arena battle and the fighting after was going to put pressure on the Council to promote many padawans to Knight, to fill the holes left by all the deaths.

Padmé blinked at the wall as she left, hearing those soft words, and quickly found a clone trooper, acquired a medkit (waving off the clone's offer to assist) and returned to them, breaking it open outside the door so it would be quieter to use, then slipped back inside. 

She looked at him steadily for a moment, then nodded. "All right, Master Jedi. That... that I can understand. Though... I am surprised, a little," she admitted as she made a demanding gesture with the hand not holding the medkit for him to get his wounds where she could work on them. 

"Why? A master must care for his padawan's well-being. I will not dissuade Anakin from his course, so I must protect him from the fallout." Obi-Wan shrugged off the robe, wincing as the move hurt his shoulder, then unbelted the tunics so he could remove them. The thigh… well, the pants were ruined, so tearing open the area around the injury wasn't a great loss.

"He speaks of you as very... 'letter of the law'," Padmé answered, very quietly, as she moved to clean the awful gash -- that had to be a lightsaber wound -- and the blackened skin around it. "But I'm glad to hear you say that. Having someone he can be honest with... may save us both." 

She carefully applied analgesic and bacta strips, once she had the wound cleaned as much as she could. 

Obi-Wan was thankful for the relief from pain, and that she was careful but quick in her motions.

"Yet I was trained by Qui-Gon," he said pointedly. "It's not as if I don't have practice ignoring deviations." 

"Master Jinn was... unique, I think," Padmé replied, her hands still careful, working over his injuries gently, "and I wish I had had time to know him better. Was he really so very different, then?" 

Memories crowded into Obi-Wan's mind, treasures of a time long since gone. Twelve years of trials, danger, affection, camaraderie… betrayals and forgiveness… fights with the Council, fights between them in front of the Council…

"Yes," he said, all of his misery and bliss managing to make that one word resonate.

Padmé wanted nothing more than to hold him tight in that moment, to fold him into her arms and support him... but he would not accept it, so she only found an unwounded bit of his shoulders to squeeze gently. "Do you think the Council will let the two of you return to Naboo with me? Nute Gunray still wants my head on a pike, it seems, and with all I have worked for defeated... 

"I now wish to be home for a while, before I return to attempting to find an end to this that spends no more lives."

"Your safety is still Anakin's mission," he evaded. Technically, it was his own as well, given that he had finished the other portion of his. "I see no reason to amend that."

She cast him a long look before she shifted her position to go to work on that mutilated thigh, unimpressed by his evasion. Not least of which, because it was hardly subtle. "And he needs you, now, Master Jedi. It won't be Theed, it will be my family's lake country retreat, far from the capital." 

"We lost a lot of Masters and promising Knights on Geonosis, Senator," he pointed out. "The Council may need to ask me questions, to help them better prepare for this war that Dooku has begun." He wanted to spit at the name, curse it for existence. That the man had dared suggest Qui-Gon would ever have joined with him --

\-- Anakin twitched, and Obi-Wan realized he'd lost control of his temper, letting it flick along the bond. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to be still and calm inside his soul.

"Then come to us quickly, afterwards, Master Jedi," Padmé replied, her eyes flicking back towards Anakin instantly. "I can help him grieve... I can't help him with your Order's tenets. Or his feeling that he failed you." 

Obi-Wan met her eyes, unaware how much his guilt for Anakin's failings showed, and slowly nodded. "I can seek Yoda out, once Anakin is willing to let me leave, to see if I truly am needed."

"Good," Padmé breathed softly, entirely relieved, and dropped her gaze back to the wound she was working on. 

"Senator… Padmé… why Anakin? Or is it how?" Obi-Wan asked, after several moments of silence. "You met him at the same age I did, and you were already very mature for your age."

"I honestly didn't recognize the man looking at me from over your shoulder for a moment," she replied, knowing it wasn't entirely an answer, "I wasn't... faking it. The little boy I remembered.... I only see 'Ani' in Anakin's smile, now. And Anakin..." 

She breathed out for a moment, hearing the shaky sound in it, and tried to gather her composure -- the one thing that Anakin destroyed in her as easily as he breathed -- again. "Men have been attempting to capture my attention for years, Obi-Wan. I'm accustomed to it... but from the moment we met again, the sheer _honesty_ in him about me, it -- 

"There's never been anyone that only cared about _Padmé_ , instead of my position, my power... or my looks," she admitted with a twist of her mouth. 

Obi-Wan sighed softly, but there was little judgment in it. "He never lost his fascination with you. To the point that he was utterly nerve-wracked on the way to see you," he admitted. "I thought it a child's memory holding sway on him. Not, mind you, that you are without appeal on many levels… but I'd hoped he'd come to his senses, and recall that he is meant to be Jedi."

"...I tried to tell him as much," Padmé replied, looking up at him again, "I did. It -- I hurt him, so terribly, in trying to tell him that we could not do this, that I would not live the kind of a lie it would take... 

"But he choked down the pain he was in, tried to push it aside, to heed me. ...if I hadn't loved him already, that would have toppled me into it." 

Obi-Wan gave a small shake of his head. "I cannot imagine where this is all going to go, and I would wish to be the one unaware, to at least pretend I didn't know the level he's taken his independence to… but I have to help him.

"His happiness does matter to me. So I will do what I must."

Padmé smiled at him, soft, relieved. "And to me, Obi-Wan. ...I could not let us go to what I thought would be our deaths thinking that I had rejected him, or worse, not knowing that I love him more than I know how to bear." 

Her words struck him like a physical blow, and he had to look away quickly, to hide the lost, pain-shattered feeling in his face. He'd managed to apologize to Qui-Gon before that fight… but of love, he had never said a word.

//Why did you leave me, Master?!//

Padmé saw the flinch throughout his body, felt it where her hands were still on his skin, and she knew she had turned pale, as realization crashed over her of just why her beloved's Master would look so stricken. "Oh... oh, Obi-Wan... I'm so sorry. I didn't -- " 

"Don't." He struggled to breathe, wishing all over again that he'd been the one in front, that he hadn't been knocked down and gotten behind, that… that Qui-Gon had survived, and never mind if he had made it himself. He could not handle her pity or whatever it was for his failure to be strong.

He reached for the Force, trying to give all the emotions away, to push them out of his awareness, to be a good Jedi… and Anakin was growing restless on the bed, making it more imperative that Obi-Wan find his control.

"As you wish," she murmured, soft, and finished working on his wound, slowly drawing her hands away and stepping back, finding the packets of cleanser to get the blood and ash off her hands. She would not push him right now, not when she had torn so deeply at him, even -- no, especially -- unintentionally. 

She moved back to the medical berth and curled at the foot of it again, her left hand settling lightly back onto Anakin's leg. At least Ani hadn't come awake while Obi-Wan was so upset... that could not have ended well. 

Obi-Wan picked up his tunics, taking the outer one and holding it out to her. "I know it's large and filthy, but you can't be very warm with your own shirt like that," he said, focusing on being a caretaker so that he could fully ease his mind.

Qui-Gon had been good at that, toward other beings. He'd even been good at it with Obi-Wan, unless a mission was driving them badly.

She leaned across enough to take it from him, her mouth quirking slightly. "We're all filthy, what's a little more? And you're right, I am a little cold. Thank you." 

She tugged it on carefully, making a mildly amused sound at the excess fabric, then fiddled with it until it was mostly snug around her. "...did you... push? for him to stay asleep? Or is this just that he finally gets _to_ sleep?" 

"I don't think I pushed. If Master Yoda came to help the med-droids, he might have," Obi-Wan admitted. "Anakin needs it, though. The longer he sleeps, the better he will be able to hold his emotions back when he wakes, to handle what needs discussed." The elder Jedi shook his head sadly before settling his inner tunic in place. 

"He does," Padmé agreed softly, before her eyes narrowed at him for a moment at that shake of his head, sharply protective words hovering on the tip of her tongue before she recognized the sadness and pushed them out of her mind. Of course he was saddened for what had happened to and with Anakin, or she would have picked entirely the wrong man to confide in. 

"Thank you, Senator, for aiding my injuries," Obi-Wan remembered to say, taking the robe and bundling it around himself. "I do think we should take advantage of his resting to get some ourselves." He didn't want to think further. The robe was not his… it had been given to him to ward off shock when they had first been rescued from where Dooku had led them. He barely knew how he was going to cope with Anakin when the boy woke, and the future was a muddled ball of misery so far as he could see.

Sleep was his only refuge, as meditation would be out of the question currently.

She nodded tiredly, smiling tiredly at him for a moment. "I agree, Master Jedi. And you are most welcome." 

++++

Anakin felt odd, almost disconnected from himself… until he realized what he was actually feeling was rested. How long had it been since that felt like a natural thing? He could feel Padmé near, her presence a soft radiance on his senses. He half-smiled as he recognized it, until he felt the other presence.

Obi-Wan felt… gruff, abraded, almost raw along his senses, yet the bond was a pulsing thing in his mind, layered with care and gentle worry. The disparity in the two sensations was enough to make Anakin push fully awake, eyes snapping open.

"Easy, Anakin," Obi-Wan said softly. "You are safe; we're aboard a transport ship still, and you are not in any danger."

Anakin blinked, shifting his weight a little, turning to see where his Master was. Sitting in the chair beside his medical berth, he discovered, wrapped in a robe that was too large for his Master, and... he looked as tired and raw as his presence felt. That worried Anakin, his love for his Master rearing up in him, and he moved to push up in the bed. 

Something felt alien, wrong, in the sensations from his right hand, and he looked down. Metal, silver-steel, jointed like a skeleton, fingers and tarsals and wrist -- 

\-- the memory of pain hit him then, moment of numbness turned to agony, thrown to collapse on his Master in shock too deep to fight, lost in it, and then... then his angel there, her arms around him. He remembered consenting to the replacement procedure, and then only... something about a conversation with Padmé and his Master both? Obi-Wan... opening the bond again? 

"...I think I could design better than this," he said, lifting the metal limb to where he could look at it more closely -- there was a hesitation in the response that momentarily frightened him, but he would work past that, "...but it's well done." 

"I'm certain you will tinker with it, as you have tinkered with every other mechanical gadget in reach of you," Obi-Wan said, smiling as his amusement and understanding of Anakin's mechanical bent spilled through the bond. "You feel… better," he said, after touching the bond to be certain. "I am glad, Anakin. We've worried."

'We'? Anakin let his attention go to the weight pinning his covers down, to see his angel there, sleepily blinking and look at him as she uncurled from beside his feet.

Padmé rubbed at the sleep in her eyes, waking slowly -- she had known she and Anakin were safe, with Master Kenobi right there -- and she smiled at feeling Anakin's gaze on her. "You do look better," she agreed with Master Kenobi, her voice soft. 

Anakin looked as though he was taking to the mechanical arm well, thank the saints. Had she heard something about tinkering with it? 

"I don't feel as tired," Anakin agreed, the surreality of this moment striking him vividly. His angel and his Master, both with him, and... no trouble? 

Maybe he didn't feel tired because he was still dreaming. Or Obi-Wan was just taking pity on him, and saving the dressing-down for when the Senator wasn't right there to hear it. "I... think we talked earlier? I don't -- it's not... clear?" 

Wait, what was Padmé wearing? Was that... he peered, more certain by the moment that that was one of his Master's tunics, and something hotly edged tried to flare in his mind. 

"Oh Anakin," Obi-Wan said, patiently. "Your girlfriend was cold, and I gave her my tunic. Do be civil," he entreated, purposefully using that word, to show he knew and had chosen to cope with it. He stood, very slowly and carefully, although the aid Padmé had given was letting him dampen the pain drastically. "Now that you are awake, my padawan, would you be willing to let me go and see if I can brief Master Yoda? The Senator has requested we accompany her home, and I honestly have little enough to add to the knowledge the Council is seeking. If I can brief him now, I won't have to delay the trip later."

He wanted to be out of here, wanted to keep from adding to Anakin's unease. Let Padmé talk to him, and make him understand that Obi-Wan was not angry. The elder Jedi had never been good at conveying anything to Anakin without starting huge debates, or outright arguments.

"I didn't say _anything_ ," Anakin protested, indignantly, turning his head towards his Master as the hot thing popped and vanished like a pricked soap-bubble in his complete confusion. His Master had said 'girlfriend', as though that were not forbidden, as though he hadn't just _screamed_ at him that he would be expelled from the Order for -- for her -- 

And what did he mean, would he let him leave? Obi-Wan did exactly as he pleased -- within the sanctity of the Code, at least -- any time he wanted! 

Obi-Wan reached up and tapped his temple. "Amazing, how much better I can tell what you're thinking, when we're both not pretending the bond is not there," he said, keeping his voice as gentle as he could. He stepped closer to the bed, reaching out to straighten the padawan braid where it rested.

All too soon, he suspected he would be cutting it off, due to necessity rather than a true readiness. As he tidied the braid, he looked down at his padawan, eyes gentle. "We have much to talk about, my padawan. And misunderstandings to unravel, I think."

Padmé kept quiet, letting this play out, but ready to intercede if either stubborn male made the wrong answer.

Anakin wrinkled his nose at him for that gesture... but then Obi-Wan's fingers were on his braid, shifting it, and -- his eyes and the feeling of him in the bond were as gentle as the touch. As gentle as his voice had been and still was. 

His head almost hurt, he was so confused, but... he reached up with his left hand, careful, and laid his fingers on his Master's left wrist. He didn't know what was going on, what had changed since their confrontation on the troop skimmer, but feeling his Master really present in the bond, feeling the concern and care he'd half-convinced himself he had only ever imagined _there_ again.... He needed that like he needed Padmé there with him. "You're... coming back to Naboo with us?" 

"As long as the Council does not need me," Obi-Wan promised. "If they do, I have told the Senator I will follow," he added, before Anakin could get too upset at being shoved down on the priority list. "It's not my choice to make that caveat, Anakin. I need to work through things with you, but I think we may have lost all but a quarter of those who came to rescue us," he said, letting his regret show in his eyes. "No matter what, you will go straight to Naboo with her, and I will handle other details, if necessary."

"All but..." Horror and fright both washed through him, bile rising bitter in his throat, at that thought. There had to have been a hundred lightsabers blazing in the stands of the arena, before the battle was joined. He'd known fewer than that had been driven into the circle, but... all of the others _dead_ , not merely wounded? 

Faces flicked through his mind, names attached to most, Masters and Knights that had taught him some of his earliest lessons -- 

"I understand, Master," he answered, looking up clear-eyed... and he did. If so many of them had fallen -- // _WHY_!? Why did they ~~she~~ have to die?!// -- his Master's wisdom and strength would be needed. 

Padmé remained still, relieved to see that this time, they seemed to be managing well enough on their own. At least mostly. 

"I'll return as soon as I may, Anakin." Obi-Wan drew back, but the bond remained open, listening and offering support all in one. He turned and walked away, going to find Master Yoda to get as much of this dealt with as he could. Yoda, one on one, would be better than facing the depleted Council in a grouped, formal setting. He needed time to build the deceit in his mind, to protect Anakin best.

Padmé waited until the door had closed behind him, wished for a moment that she had found Artoo to lock it, and moved to carefully stretch herself out on Anakin's left side. That meant lying almost on her scratches, but that seemed better, to her, than attempting to tuck herself against the healing zone between artificial arm and flesh. The blankets and two and three layers of clothing were between them, but she could still feel his warmth. 

"Angel," he whispered, feeling her there with him, confused by it but glad to have her so close. He wrapped his left arm around her, bringing the right up slowly to see if he could feel her through the fingertips.

Padmé hummed softly, pressing her cheek against his shoulder, watching the silver fingertips come towards her so tentatively. She spread her hand over his heart, feeling the slow, solid thud of it, and said softly, "Just a woman, Anakin... my love." 

The healer that had been in charge of Anakin's surgery had sworn to Obi-Wan that the neural connections would work perfectly, would give Anakin the full range of sensation and motion he had always had... she hadn't said anything about how it would feel. 

Anakin ghosted his fingers on her skin, frowning when the sensations translated as resistance and force, denying him the softness. Warmth, yes, in a sense of temperature range. Well, he'd fix it. Later.

"My love," he said, eyes seeking hers as he pushed a little more to his side, to make that easier. He needed to know for certain, to find out if she regretted that confession before they'd gone into the arena.

She looked into his seeking eyes, smiled at him, soft, with her chest aching, as she saw the fear lurking in those bright blue depths. How badly had she hurt him, in pushing him away on Naboo, that he could look so? 

She'd only been trying to protect him -- well. And herself. She had to admit that. "I love you, Anakin Skywalker. I don't know what we're going to do now, that's all details for later... but I love you." 

"I don't know how not to love you, Padmé," he whispered. "I need you. I love you." He leaned in, kissing her hesitantly, growing bolder when she did not immediately resist or pull away.

This was no momentary kiss, no single stolen instant before the crack of a whip or before her own mind demanded they separate... this was what she wanted, no, needed. Pain and soreness melted, propriety melted. Everything that wasn't Anakin -- the touch and taste of his mouth, the feeling of his arm around her back and the press of his lean, strong body to hers -- became suddenly and entirely irrelevant. She kissed him back, finding that her hand had slid from his chest around his back to hold him, an incredible joy and delight singing through her veins. 

Anakin melted closer to her, not caring about consequences, letting all of his burning love for her flow into this contact, their kiss, their embrace. He was as careful as he could be with his new arm, but the flesh one tightened on her with most of his strength to hold her close. It could go on forever… and he felt the bond taper to almost nothing after a brief touch of exceptional embarrassment. There might even have been a touch of envy, or wistfulness before it cut off.

The sudden loss of the bond's openness was a shock enough to break the kiss, but… that melange of emotions was as confusing as everything else, and he had to chuckle, latching on to the embarrassment. "Oops," he said.

Padmé heard herself whine as Anakin broke the kiss, her eyes opening just in time to see the mix of flush and confusion on his face. For an instant, she was puzzled, and then he spoke, and -- 

"Oh, no," she whispered, mortified, certain that her cheeks were every bit as red as the Queen's lipstick she had been so pleased to be rid of. "He was...?" 

Anakin's eyes danced with amusement. "I kind of forgot to shield, because I'm used to it just… not being there," he said, finding the humor in it. "He's closed it now…" He leaned toward her, inviting more kissing if she wanted.

"It's not _funny_ , Anakin," she chided, her heart aching, even as she moved enough to kiss him again, her hand sliding up his back to the slight tail of hair that was just enough for her to get her fingers into. 

Anakin ignored that, ignored the stranger feelings he'd gotten from Obi-Wan, and just threw himself back into kissing her. Padmé let her regret for having done that to Obi-Wan fade in the touch of her beloved's lips, in the heat he started burning in her with the intensity of his kiss, and let herself get lost in it. 

+++ 

Obi-Wan returned, some hours later, with a thermos of tea and a packet of rations. He was cleaner, though still in the over-sized robe and dirty tunic. 

"May I come in?" he asked from the door, cognizant of privacy matters thanks to that burst of hormone addled emotion earlier.

Had his Master been better at shielding, or had he made Qui-Gon suffer that, during his crushing on Siri? Granted, Obi-Wan had adopted a generous shielding policy all his own back then, given that he had **never** wanted to know if Tahl and Qui-Gon really were flaunting the Code.

Padmé blinked at the noise, pulled back from her drowsing on Anakin's chest by the slide of the door and the voice, and slowly sat up. Anakin's fingers tightened on her hip, and she hummed soothingly at him before she replied, "Of course." 

In contrast, the slide of the door, his Master's voice, had released a blazing torrent of pure adrenaline in Anakin, as that threatened the comfortable dream-state he had been in where his angel was with him, his Master seemed (somehow) to be accepting of that, and the Council was not just waiting like anoobas to pounce on him for his failures. 

Bafflingly, as the surge completely woke his body... the scene did not change. Padmé was only sitting up on the berth (his Master's tunic still around her slim, perfect body), her hand over his on her hip, and Obi-Wan was slipping through the door? 

"As Master Yoda insisted I eat, I decided to pass along the tending," Obi-Wan told them both. "It's not juice, but you'll have to make do and be thankful it's not caf," he added, bringing the thermos and food rations over for them. "We have a short while yet in hyperspace. Apparently we are going to Coruscant directly." Once he had delivered the food, he dropped in the chair beside the berth. "But we should be able to leave almost immediately, Senator, in your vessel once we are there. It is not in a bay that is shielded properly for space launching, or we'd leave as soon as we exited hyperspace."

Obi-Wan was babbling, Anakin thought, noting that his Master didn't often make small talk just to keep from being in the quiet. Obi-Wan liked the quiet.

Padmé eyed the rations disinterestedly for a moment... and then her stomach seemed to wake up, growled, and demanded she pay attention to the food. She ignored it, shifting to find the controls for the berth so that Anakin could sit up without having to struggle for it. "...I can understand that," she replied, to the commentary on the ship, "and all right. It's not that long a trip from Coruscant to Naboo, really. 

"I could wish we didn't have to land... but it is what it is. Thank you for bringing the food -- I am, apparently, famished." 

Anakin was tempted to mutter that he could have sat up on his own... but Padmé taking care of him was... oddly soothing. It was something he wasn't used to. 

Everything seemed... almost normal, as though he wasn't dreaming, was instead awake and actually seeing his Master discomfited and... somehow not angry with that Padmé had yet to leave his space? 

"It will be a short trip, with a shorter stay on Coruscant than either of your other times there," Obi-Wan said, before focusing on reopening the bond. He let it reflect his relief in seeing Anakin conscious and adapting be his primary emotion. Getting fed and made to clean up by Master Yoda had led to a little more stability on his part. "I told Master Yoda that we would remain on Naboo for some time, to inspect your security measures, Senator, as we have reason to suspect the Sith in the previous attack upon you."

Anakin didn't think he had heard that correctly. Obi-Wan had voluntarily come up with an excuse as to why they should remain on Naboo?

Padmé snorted -- a deeply indelicate noise, and she didn't care -- as she tore open a ration packet to hand to Anakin, carefully twisting around to look towards Obi-Wan and Anakin both, biting at one of her own before she replied. "Mmm... something about Nute Gunray screaming for my head loudly enough that I could hear him from the pillar? Yes." 

Anakin _growled_ , his new fingers flexing on the ration packet, his hand tightening on his angel's calf. That kriffing Neimoidian... 

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said very calmly. "I am prepared to protect your secret with the Senator, but I will not be able to do so unless you meet me halfway and learn to control your temper," he said patiently. "I know it is difficult… I have been there, my padawan… but it is the only way to avoid measures from the Council."

He kept his gaze even as he met Anakin's angry eyes, letting the bond carry over his willingness, as well as his plea for Anakin to be stronger than this.

W -- what? 

Anakin wasn't certain what part of that stunned him most, but between the lot of it, even the depth of his protective fury over Padmé couldn't stay in the forefront of his mind. First off, _what_?

Obi-Wan Kenobi, perfect by-the-rules Jedi Code Knight, had just said he was -- willing to protect his secret? Protect him and Padmé? 

The patient chiding -- as though he was still just a child, not ready to take the Trials (he _knew_ he was, no matter what Obi-Wan thought) -- had almost curled his lip, but... a Jedi did have to control his emotions. Not hard right now, when he was so stupefied that it was all he could do to keep his chin where it was supposed to be. 

And... his Master had been where? So angry that he could not control it? In love? 

He couldn't believe either. But... the bond was still open, Obi-Wan steady and... yet... pleading?

There was so much of this that was everything he could have hoped for... which meant it couldn't be real. 

"I'm actually still unconscious, aren't I?" he asked. 

Obi-Wan laughed, something that was a shade away from hysterics and he shook his head.

Anakin could not stand hearing his Master sound like that, sound so close to hysterics, and he pushed himself to move, to slip out of the blankets -- avoiding his angel -- and get to his Master. 

"Anakin," Obi-Wan began, his voice in that imploring 'behave' tone… but he got up and moved, so that Anakin couldn't hurt himself. He landed wrong on his own leg, but just winced and moved to sit, hard, on the edge of the bed, reaching out to rest a hand on Anakin's shoulder. "You shouldn't get up yet," he fussed. He was completely derailed from his attention to getting Anakin in line with how to hide his relationship to trying to take care of his padawan instead.

Though the two things were closely tied in his heart.

Anakin pressed into that touch, the flare of pain through the bond making him hiss worriedly, his hand locking around his Master's wrist for a moment, then sliding up to mimic the grip on his shoulder, looking up into worry-dark blue eyes. Even Padmé's presence faded out a little, with his Master's focus on him in the good ways, with all of that care and concern, deep enough for him to drown in... "Master, I -- this... is real? I'm... not -- " 

Padmé slipped back to the end of the berth, taking her ration with her, to give them space. That sickening, almost hysterical sound of Obi-Wan's laughter at Anakin's question had claws in her own throat, but... they were focused on each other, exactly as they needed to be. 

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, the pain of his past written on his face alongside the worry and concern for Anakin. "I… apologize, my padawan, for allowing this rift to grow. I did not see it. I believed only that I was protecting you from emotional burdens I have found cumbersome and at war with my own need to be a good Jedi," he said, his words coming too slowly, a struggle to say them. "Your well-being, both physical and emotional, was given into my care, and I have failed you."

Anakin was almost certain that he could count on one hand the number of times he had heard his Master apologize _to_ him, instead of _for_ him, and that kept him quiet throughout Obi-Wan's words. Seeing so much pain streaked across Obi-Wan's face had him wanting to soothe it, to steady him somehow... 

A rift? 

More like Beggars' Canyon! Anakin shook the thought away, still holding on to his Master, watching the pain still on him, and carefully considering that torrent of words... and the last ones made him shake. There was a terror, a panic, in him, but he couldn't refuse to speak, not with... "You're not the one that's failed, Master. I -- I -- " 

Obi-Wan's hand flexed, harder than he'd meant, to try and stop those words. "Anakin, please." He drew a deep breath. "You have mastered so much of what a Jedi must. It is not your fault, not by a long parsec, that I made mistakes that kept abrading your ability to master them all. I can see that now." 

It did not help, now that he was confronting it, he could see Qui-Gon's own actions with him, prior to his defection from the order, prior to Xanatos's last gambit against them, in the mistakes he had made. Hadn't his own Master apologized to him for maintaining such distance? Withholding his full trust?

The hard grip on his shoulder stilled his tongue, and his eyes just searched his Master's face, trying to understand. He didn't, and there was a strange fuzziness over his wits, but... his Master's praise and apology -- no half-hearted words there, nothing but all of Obi-Wan's will and sometimes brutal honesty -- were somehow cutting through it. "I... I don't understand, Master. I know I haven't been easy to deal with, but..." 

"Anakin, you have been a trial… but not for any of the reasons you think," Obi-Wan told him. "You are a very easy young man to care for, and I only wanted to spare you the lessons I had learned about love. In doing so, I neglected you, and left you vulnerable to your own anger." He shifted uneasily, then glanced at Padmé -- she had begun this, she had a right to hear it, good and bad alike. "I would not let myself love you the way you needed, my padawan, because I was afraid of the repercussions. I thought, by holding back, you would be safe. I was wrong."

...not for why he thought? Anakin blinked, confused, realized at his Master's glance sideways that Padmé was hearing his Master baring his soul... but Obi-Wan would be as safe as he was, with his angel. He could trust her with his Master's secrets. And maybe Padmé needed to know. 

"You? Afraid, Master? I... I did need you." He shook his head at the verb, clinging to Obi-Wan with both hands (when had that happened), "Not did. I -- I do." 

He'd been so afraid, and alone, and Obi-Wan had always felt so far away, any time they weren't actively working, any time they weren't in that uncanny synch that let them pull off the nigh-impossible that had built so quickly... 

The Chancellor had been there, friend and advisor and confidant where there had been no-one else he could trust -- but the Chancellor did not love him. He wasn't sure that man could love anything. 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, and then reached out and drew Anakin into a hug, too overwhelmed to do more than let his affection show. He held on too long, he knew, and knew he was shaking some in that hug, before he could release Anakin.

"Anakin… you saved me, when you were still just a boy, by being there for me to take care of," he said seriously. "Because I was very close to walking the Dark path. Your need to help others, your drive to be a good Jedi, to learn everything so quickly, gave me just the focus I needed. So, that need runs both ways."

"You would never," Anakin disagreed, burrowing back into Obi-Wan's arms, disliking that he had been released at all, especially when his Master was shaking. "But... I'm glad. That I was."

Obi-Wan let Anakin stay there, sighing softly. "My padawan, there is so much about me that I have never said. Because a Jedi is not supposed to dwell on the past. They make their mistakes, they learn from them, and they move on.

"But Padmé saw it, as I learned while you slept," he admitted. 

Anakin blinked, startled, and shifted to look up, trying to see his Master's face at that edged, almost dark tone. The mention of his beloved made him realize the position they were in, and he cast his attention back towards his lady...who felt... only quietly relieved?

He was never going to understand women, but that let him relax and stay there, not trying to get or push away. "...that _is_ the way you have tried to teach me," he agreed quietly, before making an interested, baffled sound. What had Padmé seen, that he hadn't known existed? And how? 

Obi-Wan reached up and rubbed his face, weighing everything. But if Anakin had given in and slaughtered in anger, he needed to know. Easier to say it now, while he was open. While Anakin was making it both easier and harder, all in one, to be vulnerable.

"I killed Darth Maul in rage, Anakin. I was full of such anger as I had not felt since I was an initiate. All I wanted was to destroy him, and I hoped, in the darkness of my soul, that it hurt when I did it," he said. "Because he took away the foolish, slender hope I'd held onto for years, that someday, I would be able to tell my Master I loved him. Because he killed the man I worshipped. A man that had been steadily dashing my hopes of having that love returned… but I could not help what I harbored for him."

Saying it aloud brought all the pain into sharp focus, one more reminder of how wrong he had been, that he hadn't been able to turn it loose, with the grief.

 _His Master_ had -- had killed in anger? 

Anakin shook his head, a little, staring up at Obi-Wan's face, the agony written so clearly there... He couldn't do anything but believe him, even as that shook something deep in him. His Master could be composed in the face of anything, held Jedi serenity so solidly around him that it was infuriating... how could he have ever known the rage that had consumed him in the camp, and still have _that_?

But then there was the rest, the impossible words he could taste the truth of, and he tried to tug his Master closer, reeling. Obi-Wan had loved Master Qui-Gon? Had... desired him? 

How had he stood there so blankly as his body burned, then? 

...had he actually shown anything at his mother's grave? Or had --

"Master," he whispered, slowly, stunned and desperate, "I -- it hurts..." 

"I know, Ani, I know." Obi-Wan turned to better hold his padawan close, hand going up to pet his hair and keep him tight. "I'll help you find a way to move forward, even if I am uncertain how to help you let the pain go," he promised. He made himself start using a breathing exercise, reaching for his calm, knowing it was shattered, and focused solely on Anakin as his center point. He kept the bond wide open, letting his padawan actually feel how raw he was, sharing that vulnerability to encourage Anakin to be open with him.

Anakin slid over in the bed, dragging Obi-Wan with him, and burrowed into that strong, safe hold again. He knew that pattern of breathing, and it was instinct to match it... but the presence of his Master in his mind was -- was anything but serene. He could feel grief, and hurt, and --

And a protective resolve, filled with love he'd never thought to have, that wrapped around him as snugly as a robe and held on. He heard himself make a quiet, confused noise -- his Master was always so calm, even when he was doing his best to provoke him he was so kriffing calm!, but now... 

It was so much easier to let his own grief and rage show, let them be known, when he wasn't flinging himself against that wall of serenity. " _Why_?" he whispered, and meant his mother, the Jedi they had lost, his failure, Master Qui-Gon's loss all those years ago. All of it, all at once, and it should have been a scream, not a whisper, for how much it hurt. 

Obi-Wan did not answer him right away, but let the bond show how hard that question struck him. He grasped for words, dismissing them all, and kept breathing, slow and rhythmic.

"The platitude is that death is a part of life, and that is true. But why do some live peacefully to a death in their sleep, and why do others have such horrific ends? In our case, that of the Jedi, it is because we are willing to lay down our lives to protect others," Obi-Wan began, going slowly. "In the case of your mother… that does not hold true. She never asked to be in harm's way as we do. But the horror that led to her death is part of what we fight against, Anakin. We have to believe that we can, in time, make the worlds we serve safer.

"Tatooine is far from the Core, but that doesn't mean we shouldn't be emissaries of better living there. We just get so tangled up in the problems we have, and our numbers are so few compared to the Galaxy." Obi-Wan gently stroked Anakin's hair as he talked. "None of which takes away the pain we feel because of this. And I am not trying to smooth any of it away, Anakin. If I don't ground myself in what I just said… the Dark Side calls me too strongly."

At least he'd called it a platitude, Anakin thought, a flicker of resentment running through him... but he subsided as Obi-Wan spoke. 

Yes. They were Jedi, it was expected that they protect others, die if need be to do so. He nodded, and relaxed a little more as Obi-Wan said 'horror' about his mother's death. His angel must have told him, Anakin half remembered realizing that, but his Master felt sickened and sad, not disapproving, and he nodded a little. He wanted to make things better, safer, stop the kind of pain he'd felt from happening to anyone else. Wasn't that what they were _for_?!

The 'so few' had almost set him on edge -- who was he kidding, he was all edges and he knew it, right now -- but then there were the last words. 

_His_ Master, tempted by the Dark Side? His head shook a little, under Obi-Wan's hand, as he stayed wrapped close. "You wouldn't Fall, Master. 

"I... all I could feel was rage... I saw what I was doing, in flashes, but it.... am I lost?" 

Obi-Wan shook his head. "No, Anakin, you are not. If you were, you would not be asking that question." He took a deeper breath, released it very slowly. "I am almost convinced every Jedi faces this crossroad at some point, Ani. Darth Maul was mine. Your mother's death was yours.

"Would you think that Qui-Gon had ever been that close to the Dark Side?" Obi-Wan knew his padawan had nothing but good memories of the Jedi Master. Maybe it would make the point best, to share that dark moment.

"What?" Anakin blinked, startled, shaking his head a little as he lifted his head to find his Master's eyes, thinking of the tall man with the simple clothes and sad eyes that could light with such mischief and play, his quiet strength and the low boom of his rare laugh. He had been the most self-possessed being he'd ever met, not serene, but... centered. "I -- no, I wouldn't..."

Obi-Wan shook his head, but there was a small press of love for the elder man in his bond even now, as he started to talk about him to his padawan. "Qui-Gon Jinn was given to moments of impatience when I first met him, but he mostly grew out of that," he said to begin. "I thought he was the most self-contained Jedi I had ever met… and I only learned over the years just how he struggled to be the Jedi I aspired to be.

"Without the Council fights, mind you," Obi-Wan said, hoping to draw at least a small smile from Anakin. 

Anakin couldn't imagine a time when they hadn't known each other. The flare of love along the bond, touched with grief and longing, made him shift close again as Obi-Wan started to speak. That Qui-Gon could be impatient, that did not surprise him, but... it had been a struggle for him to be so composed? So -- 

The interjection, the wry edge of amusement, made Anakin snort, shrugging one shoulder slightly. "The only fights you have with the Council are over me. But he did that, too." 

Padmé stayed still and quiet, watching her beloved and his Master, listening with her heart breaking for both of them as they let pain pour out of them, somehow finding solace in the sharing... just as she had hoped. For Anakin, at least. She hadn't known Obi-Wan needed it just as badly. 

Obi-Wan laughed, a touch of bitterness, a touch of respect in it. "I fight for you, even when you think it is against the way you think it should go, my padawan," he told the younger man. "Because I was desperate to help you reach your dream, preferably with less pain than it took me to get there. Look how well I managed that.

"But, this was about Qui-Gon, and falling into Darkness." Obi-Wan reached back into his memories for that awful moment. "He had an agemate, his dearest friend within the Order. More, if I let myself be honest about it, even though I think she and he were… ignoring it. Mostly. Master Tahl was kind, but she could be blunt, and did not hesitate to call him to task over things, even about me."

Anakin found himself at something of a loss to imagine a woman that could call Qui-Gon Jinn to task and have him heed it. This woman must have been... incredible. He nodded a little, said nothing, and his Master continued. 

"She taught my best friend, so we were, the four of us, fairly close when in the Temple. I knew my Master cared deeply for her, and that it was mutual… but that did nothing to prepare me for the day we lost her." He closed his eyes, recalling those awful moments. "I saw my Master ready to strike down an unarmed man to avenge her, Anakin. I saw his attachment to her lead him into the Dark Side."

That would have to be Bant, the Mon Cal Knight that Obi-Wan would sometimes disappear with for a drink or dinner, Anakin decided, still listening. He could feel Obi-Wan's pain, almost see what his Master was seeing... and then there was 'strike down an unarmed man' and he flinched from the tone and the words, trying to actively draw back at the next sentence. 

If his Master considered only being 'ready' to a mark of Falling, how much worse -- 

"No, Ani… no." Obi-Wan turned his face in against Anakin's hair, kissing the side of his head. "Listen, listen to the part that I did not understand then… and am only just learning to now.

"Qui-Gon stayed his hand, did not strike. After, he thanked me, for stopping him, for calling his name." Obi-Wan drew in another breath. "It wasn't me. It had been Tahl, somehow, from the Force. Her love for him… kept him from Falling."

Soft words, steadying, and Anakin stilled, stayed still a moment, then burrowed back into his Master's hold, turning his cheek against his throat to stay close. That that hadn't been... condemnation, had only been a piece of the story that his Master thought needed to come out... he steadied a little, trying to gather the wit to go back into the breathing exercise. 

Acting from the Force? After death? 

Faint, hazed in black and crimson fury, Anakin recalled the sound of a voice calling to him to stop... he hadn't known it, couldn't hear it truly, now. "...now that would just tie Master Rancisis' tail in knots," he murmured, the half-sarcasm coming almost by rote, more than from any real intent. 

It was... comforting, though, to think that what he already knew, that love mattered, that it could be a strength, not a weakness -- no matter how he had failed -- had been proven in Master Jinn and this woman. 

Obi-Wan snorted at Anakin's comment. "Trying to live past death is frowned upon, seen as a Sith matter, but I am not certain, having heard both sides of the argument," he told Anakin. "The idea of not losing the wisdom learned is something worth considering, in certain cases.

"But that's not important now. What is, my dear padawan, is that you can commit a Dark act… and come back into the Light. Making your peace with it can take different paths. But you do question it, and you wish to be a Jedi still, or at least I hope so." He let his voice rise, waiting for Anakin's reply to that.

"I do! Of course I do!" Anakin jerked his head up, staring indignantly at his Master for that questioning tone, "that's all I've _ever_ wanted to be!" 

The 'to be' made it wholly true. He wanted -- needed -- Padmé in his life, needed the woman he loved, but the only thing he'd ever really wanted to do was to be a Jedi. He'd dreamed of that before he even understood what they were, seen himself as that kind of a protector... 

"Then, Anakin, we'll work on your emotional control," Obi-Wan said. "Get you to a point where you can take that moment, and think… whether it is of your need to be a Jedi that you hold as a shield, or the fact that the Senator there will probably tear you apart for making life harder on all of us," and he kept his voice light, teasing on that part of it, "we'll help you step away from temptation." 

He gave Padmé an encouraging look as he finished that last. If he was going to have to cope with Anakin in love, he could at least use it as a further tool to protect his padawan from the worst in life.

Anakin made a startled, half-indignant noise at Obi-Wan's teasing commentary, his gaze suddenly swinging back to his angel, realizing how much he'd ignored her, what this had to look like -- 

\-- and Padmé stretched her hand out to pat his calf, smiling at him as gently as she'd flashed a momentary grin back to Obi-Wan for that comment. "Shh, Anakin. I'd be curled up in my family's arms right now if I'd been through half of what you have... why shouldn't you?" 

Too right, she would flay Anakin if he chose to keep falling into that darkness... but right now, what he needed to hear was that he had her support, and her understanding. 

"Wasn't it just the last ten-day you compared me to a father you never had?" Obi-Wan said, teasing Anakin with his own words. "We can recover from this, Anakin. And move forward. So that you meet your dreams fully."

"Mm, more like yesterday," Padmé said softly, her eyes now nowhere but Anakin's face, and he nodded his agreement, leaning against Obi-Wan's body. 

Why was he so tired again? 

Obi-Wan looked briefly startled at that, to know Anakin had expressed that sentiment to someone else. "You should rest if you are tired, Ani," he said gently. "After you finish the rations."

"Why am I so tired?" Anakin asked, hearing too late that he sounded as petulant as he'd been the last time he'd caught a Rimworld fever on a mission they couldn't leave. He'd spent four days out of his head with it, and whined almost every time he was conscious. 

"You haven't slept in four days except under sedation," Padmé answered, "you've been under incredible stress, suffered two terrible losses, and now been through this kind of emotional strain? I'd be worried if you weren't tired, my love." 

"Exactly as she has said it, my padawan. Now, eat, and then you can sleep." Obi-Wan started to move, so Padmé could take back her rightful place.

Anakin did not _want_ his Master to move away from him, and his hand tightened before he realized that Obi-Wan meant to let his angel settle back in next to him. For that, he could make himself let go of his Master. Now he had to figure out where exactly the ration had gone... 

Padmé saw the seeking look and flicked her gaze around, looking for it as well. There, closer to her hand than anything else, and she picked it up to hand back to him. 

Obi-Wan took his chair back, settling in it so that he could tip his head back against the edge. Anakin was not the only person who was tired… he was tired enough to be imagining Qui-Gon's presence near them, despite the years since losing him.

++++

Obi-Wan had to admit there was wisdom in having come here. The planet was lovely, peaceful now. He had slept many hours their first night down, and found himself drawn to the waterside for meditation. He wanted to give Anakin as much space and time as he needed, while keeping the bond always there, open to any requests.

However, he knew he needed to pull his frayed control into place, so that he could be of service to his padawan. Meditation seemed the best path to that. He settled in pants and a loose tunic to a series of body-stretching exercises, letting the faint breeze soothe away his memories of death all around him. When he settled into a lotus-style position to actually breathe and clear his mind, he felt better about his chances of a good center being found.

He did regret, at times like this, giving the stone to Anakin. It had always been a good focus for him when he was struggling with his connection to the Force. But Anakin had needed it… he wondered if his padawan had unlocked that capability.

Padmé had come awake curled in Anakin's arms, her usual tendency to long hours working and not much sleep working against her, when all she wanted was to enjoy the feeling of him with her, and carefully slipped out of the bed before that she was alert could wake him. He grumbled, stretching his hand out after her, and she settled on the edge of it until he settled back into deeper sleep. 

Then she dressed, simply and not nearly as form-fitting as what she'd worn to Geonosis, and walked out onto one of the long balconies, looking towards the sunrise. She had the entire length of her hair to brush, that would take a while, and she liked watching the sun come up. 

On the shore below, Master Kenobi sat, obviously meditating. 

She seemed to have a knack for finding Jedi in mid-meditation. She did not want to disturb him, so she turned her gaze out onto the water and watched the waves. If he left his meditation, she would see the movement, and then she could go speak to him, if Anakin had not awakened by then. 

Obi-Wan had tried to focus solely on the present as he meditated. Unfortunately, the past was too near. He found himself analyzing all the ways he interacted with his Master through the years. He did see that his Master had cared for him; their training bond had been crystal clear even before Qui-Gon had accepted him officially. And it had only barely frayed during Obi-Wan's rebellion.

If it had been anything more than what Obi-Wan felt toward Anakin, he could not tell. Qui-Gon had been so careful in his personal relationships, having been so hurt by Xanatos and then Tahl's death. 

Slowly, Obi-Wan made peace with the not-knowing, and brought himself up from his thoughts. He rose, looking out over the lake, and promised himself he would try again later. For now, he should find food.

Despite her attempt to keep an edge of her attention on him, Obi-Wan was several steps from where he had been sitting before Padmé noticed that he was coming back towards the house. Her mouth quirking in faint amusement at stealthy Jedi, she moved away from where she was leaning against the railing and headed down through the passageways of the house to meet him. 

In all likelihood, he was heading for breakfast, so it should not be difficult to meet him on the way to the kitchen. 

Obi-Wan glanced up as he became aware of the other person present near him, and he inclined his head. "Anakin is still resting?" he asked. "I had hoped you both would sleep in; you need it nearly as much as he."

She smiled, her mouth quirking at him in honest affection. "He is... and I slept more than I typically do, I assure you. I didn't want to wake him by lying there awake, when I knew there was no more sleep to be had. Good morning, Master Kenobi. 

"You look better rested, yourself." 

"I am, thank you. I was going to make breakfast; would you join me?" he invited. "Despite any horror stories Anakin has told you, I can actually manage food."

"He hasn't," she replied with a shake of her head, "and that sounds wonderful. Though now I'm going to have to ask him about these tales, you know..." 

Obi-Wan gave a small laugh at that. "It's been an ongoing debate between us, given that he's not much better than he alleges I am. Typically, we both have to remember that food is required, once we get to a mission." He had found that a familiar, comforting pattern, given how often Tahl had fussed that Qui-Gon needed to make certain they ate. "Thank you, again, for the invitation to return here. I am hoping my fellow Jedi are taking similar rests, to come to turns with these events, before the war consumes us all."

"I don't think I had said, in all of the confusion... but I am terribly sorry for the losses the Order suffered," Padmé said softly, "and I hope that they are, as well. 

"And I can't imagine that Anakin would be a terribly good cook, no. I mean, I'm certainly not, but patience doesn't seem to be one of his great virtues, and Mom says good food takes it." 

Obi-Wan half-smiled. "He's patient to a fault with machines, droids, and even small children on those occasions we have to deal with such. But generally, no." He fell in step with her easily, matching her pace rather than stretching his for when he was walking beside Anakin. That had been an old habit he'd fallen into swiftly, given his own training years. "Padmé, what do you see for you and he?" he asked, honest curiosity in his voice.

She shook her head, running her fingers through the crown of her hair for a moment in a nervous habit she thought she'd beaten years ago. "...I don't know, Obi-Wan. I honestly don't. 

"I mean... I still live with my parents, when I'm not on Coruscant or in the palace," she laughed, almost helplessly. "I'd never planned on anything but public service, from the time I was... oh, eight? And then my name was put up for election for Queen, and I actually was elected, then there was -- well, you and Ani, and everything -- and the next seven years of my life were devoted to rebuilding my world. 

"A -- a lover, a husband or wife, children? Those aren't things I really thought about, especially after my appointment to the Senate. I thought I'd spend at least the next decade there, and no matter what you both think of politics, it's hard work and long hours often for precious little reward but the hope you've done the right thing for as many people as possible." 

"Not so different from a Jedi, I think," he said gently. "We serve the Republic. There is no reward but serving well, nor is it wise to seek such. That way leads to the Fall." He considered the rest. "In time, some Jedi retire to their homeworlds, if they kept connections to them. Others find a world where they have peace, and settle in as an advisor there. If Dooku had done that for Serreno, and not pushed into power, things might have been fine," he admitted. "Anakin is still young, though, and he is sorely needed by the Order. And, from my perspective, he needs the Order, to help him contain his abilities safely."

"He needs to be a Jedi," Padmé agreed instantly, looking towards him as though he'd lost his mind at the idea of anything else. "He's..." 

She frowned slightly, trying to find the words for what she sensed more than understood. "Being anything but a Jedi would be like... being shackled all the time, for him, I think. Or it would leave him only half-alive. 

"He needs to be needed, to have a reason for all of that... intensity," that was hardly the word, but it was the only one she had, "that drives him." 

"I am glad we are in accord on that, Padmé. It means that we will need to apply as much discretion as possible, to allow you to anchor him… and let him be who he is." Obi-Wan mulled that over, knowing he was flagrantly disregarding rules. "Part of the guard against attachments is that some Jedi in the past chose their attached ones over their duty. Anakin attempted to, in the pursuit of Dooku," he stated baldly, to help her understand the danger.

In the... Padmé blinked at him, and then her eyes went narrow, her jaw tipping up. "...what, exactly, did Anakin attempt?" she asked, her voice quiet and even. 

Obi-Wan sighed softly. "He tried to order our ship down, to get to you."

He had what? 

When they had so badly needed to capture that man, to stop his escape back to more warmongering, Anakin had -- 

"Thank you for not letting him," Padmé said, soft and steady and resolute, before understanding struck her and all of her displeasure evaporated in pain for her beloved. "...when he'd just lost his mother, seen you captured, and come so close to -- oh, Ani, _darling_...

"I'll talk to him, Obi-Wan. I understand the panic he must have been in... but he can't do that. He can't put me above the Republic, above innocent lives." 

"If you can help him understand that… and I do see now, how raw he would have been. He's young." Obi-Wan set to making their meal as they settled in the kitchen, planning for Anakin's appetite as he did. "If, and I say this with optimism, we can actually make the attachment something that makes him a stronger Jedi, then we will be able to tell that to the Council when they discover it.

"Because eventually, they will, Padmé, and we will need to be able to show the breach of the Code was something the Force approves of."

Padmé turned a little and looked at him, her head tilting, something in the concern in his voice making her uneasy, especially when her memory coupled it with Anakin's agonized, frightened 'probably be punished' before they'd left this place. However long ago that had been, it was difficult to tell when you added spaceflight and days on different planets... "And what if that's not enough, Obi-Wan? What is it that he's afraid of?" 

If they hurt him, Jedi Council or no, for loving her.... 

"He would be expelled from the Order. Probably after a period of trying to contain him and guiding him to release the attachment," Obi-Wan explained. "That was what I was told was the likely consequence for such things."

Adi Gallia had at least warned both he and Siri, before they got too far lost in what had been growing.

"...they're just fond of cutting off their own noses to spite their faces, aren't they?" Padmé asked, trying to defuse the instantly aggressive response the implicit threat to Anakin had sparked in her. Being expelled from the Order would hurt him, wound his pride, but... there was something she was missing, either in what that would mean or in what Anakin thought it would, to have awakened that tone in her beloved's voice. 

"Recall I stated I believe he needs the Order, Padmé," Obi-Wan said softly, catching the loss of understanding. "Jedi outside the Order are prone to the Dark Side; it is historic fact. They do not feel as constrained in the application of their power, and cross the line too easily, in trying to make their new lives. With Anakin, who is prey to such strong emotions… with no governing body but his own view of how the galaxy works… I would fear for him."

That 'his own view of how the galaxy works' reminded Padmé, all too clearly, of Anakin's grief-maddened raving on power and protection, of his almost casual advocacy for a dictatorship instead of their fractious Republic, and she felt an ice-cold chill run down her spine. They were still talking past each other somehow, she was sure, but... "I agree with you," she replied. "It would not -- that's not something I want to see. 

"...I think you're going to have to teach me about this mysterious Code of yours, so I can understand how to help him." 

"There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force." Obi-Wan looked at her as he diced peppers to add to the meal. "It has variations, but that is one of the strictest versions, and it is the core of what younglings are taught from the time they can be in classes. It is reinforced time and again. The first line is the one that is interpreted to forbid attachments, reinforced by the third."

Padmé swallowed down her first three reactions to that litany, took a couple of slow breaths, and still found herself shaking her head. That might be the most kriffing idiotic bunch of ridiculous pap she had heard since she was trying to wade through the tracts of a cult making trouble on Orrish XI... but there had to be something worthwhile in it, for so many beings who she did respect to hold to it. 

"Maybe that makes more sense to someone that can touch the Force than it does to me," she finally decided to say. 

"Possibly." How could he demonstrate just how bad the Force could be abused without actually tainting his use of it? He took a fruit and put it inside a container, so it would not make a mess, and then focused. "Bear with me, for a moment. Watch the fruit." At least he could salvage it as puree or juice after… and he brought his full manipulation of Force down on it. The fruit responded by imploding as if smashed by many tons of pressure. "That's merely the physical, Padmé," he said calmly as the mess settled. "There are people who are very adept with the mental tricks that can turn a person into a mindless drone, or even masses of them."

Padmé studied the destroyed fruit through the glass, listening to Obi-Wan thoughtfully, before she shook her head slightly and returned her gaze to his eyes, all too aware that her horror at those last words had to be showing in her face. "That's obscene, Master Kenobi... but nowhere in -- what you just recited to me -- do I hear anything that directs you against _just_ that use." She lifted her hand sharply, glaring as he opened his mouth, and went on. 

"Perhaps I am only ignorant, but... If there is to be no emotion, would that not imply that your Order should suppress it in others?" 

"The Code is only meant for Jedi," he said. "Most of the violent applications of Force use are corollaries of knowledge," he said, half-smiling for her questioning. It was useful, to try and explain it to a non-Force user. "Or the chaos part; many debates over that." He found the juice strainer to make something worth saving of his demonstration. "There are many, many tenets that expand on each line, interpretations that are nearly as rigid as the Code itself.

"Overall, the guidance is fleshed out in the creche, then with the many who teach, and then with the singular Master. Life itself provides the rest of the lessons. If the lessons were not learned well, a Jedi can Fall. And abuse the power they have, at that point, learned to wield too well."

Padmé pushed her fingers through her hair, watching him as he worked on the simple task of the juice, wondering how to get across to him that she heard no guidance in the litany of the Code, only impossible dichotomies and expectations... and for the moment, she gave up on the problem. 

The dangers of the Dark Side... those she thought she had a better understanding of. But then, she had seen those, at least a little. "Life," she said softly, "is a very hard teacher." 

"So we learn," he said, with a wry twist to his words and another small smile at her. "I am not trying to … evade anything? I have always struggled to explain things I grew up knowing at a very base level. It's one reason I have very adeptly avoided working in the creche. But, that very limitation has done Anakin no favors, given his age when he came to us."

"I didn't think you were," she replied softly, "and that makes sense. It's hard to put words to things you've just always _known_. I've experienced that in the Senate, trying to get a point about service or mercy across to some of the caste- or class- based races that see things so differently than I do." 

Obi-Wan sighed softly, nodding. "Learning the points of those cultures is always an in-depth process before going to a negotiation." He focused on the cooking then, thinking on the cultural divides between himself and Padmé, thinking on how it affected Anakin, with his completely different background, and what he had absorbed of the Order's culture.

"Isn't it just?" Padmé agreed with a sigh, falling into the same easy, reflective quiet. There had to be writings on the Order that weren't locked within the confines of the Temple... maybe some of those would help her figure out why they attempted to hold themselves to something blatantly doomed to failure and disappointment. 

Obi-Wan had everything transferred to plates, three of them, about the same instant Anakin wandered in, looking better than he had, dressed in nothing but his loose sleeping pants and a robe that he hadn't bothered to belt. The elder Jedi treated that as perfectly normal, and a sign that things were better; that was Anakin being comfortable with himself.

"Good morning," he said, placing a plate in front of his padawan, then in front of Padmé before taking his own and sitting with them.

"Mmm." Anakin looked far more interested in the plate than conversation, though he did lean over to Padmé and lean his head on her for a long moment. He was awake; alert would take a little longer.

Padmé turned slightly, pressing into the contact, her fingers sliding over to rest over his hand, before she picked up her fork to see if Obi-Wan truly was a passable cook. So her Anakin woke slowly, when given the chance? She wouldn't have expected that, but it made her smile. 

That he'd come down to find them in so little, though, that... well, for one thing, it was patently unfair. 

Obi-Wan applied himself to his food. Perhaps he would go swim, or run, to let the couple have more privacy after the meal. For now, he just watched as his padawan was calm, knowing it would not last. It never did. Passion, he had learned, was at the core of Anakin Skywalker, and one of the hardest parts of him to contain.

"Should I be aware of any predators, should I choose to run or swim today, Padmé?" he asked, as Anakin was not up to conversation yet.

"Most of our dangerous beasts live in the deep oceans, not the freshwater lakes -- there's no connection to the Abyssal Labyrinth here," she replied, looking out the windows, "and most of the land predators avoid humans and Gungans alike. They... are mostly large, though. 

"The only ones that might be dangerous to a Jedi are the veermok -- they attack anything -- but they are solitary, and prefer the heavy woods or swamps. You might see tusk cats or their cousins, the narglatch... both of them protect their shaak herds, but they don't bother people." 

He nodded to that. "Thank you. I've been hunted by enough predators to like to know what I might run into on new worlds," he said dryly. "My Master thought that survival testing was 'amusement'." That memory came easily enough; perhaps he was putting the pain to rest?

"Oh?" Padmé asked, intrigued, wanting to know more about the man that she had known so briefly, but who had made such a huge impact on her Ani and Master Kenobi alike. "And I think I remember Jar-Jar telling me you'd come through the Core once, can I dare hope it was a peaceful trip?" 

"As my Master put it, there's always a bigger fish?" Obi-Wan offered. "I was both piloting and trying desperately to ignore Jar Jar's fluttering." He shook his head. "Qui-Gon always had the better touch when it came to interacting with locals.

"And yes, if Qui-Gon was restless, but nothing suited his particular talents, he would pick a new planet with some extreme of temperature, animal life, or other challenge, and off we went."

From that, Padmé drew that it had not, in fact, been a peaceful trip. But it was true, there were always bigger fish in the Abyss. The thought of the tall, broad man pitting himself against the elements... was easy to see, actually. He had carried himself in the quietly competent way that said he could meet many challenges easily. 

"He didn't seem bothered by Tatooine," Anakin said, the first he'd actually contributed to the conversation, before she could. "I thought it was strange, for an offworlder. 

"That makes sense." 

"I don't remember any planet that it alone bothered him," Obi-Wan said, thinking on it. "Events? Yes. there are places I still do not wish to go, because of things that occurred on those planets." He looked apologetically at Padmé. "Coming here… is helpful for releasing the past."

"Then I am more glad that you agreed to come back with us, Master Jedi," she replied, smiling gently at him. "I have long wished that you could have had better experiences here." 

That 'us', so natural-sounding and easy on Padmé's lips, soothed away any edge of unease from the rest of her words, and Anakin only reached to rest his left hand behind her back for a moment. His angel was so caring, so giving... but he'd never realized that there were places that still haunted his Master. That even _could_ haunt his Master, who had always seemed to let everything go into the Force. 

Obi-Wan glanced at his padawan briefly, then at the young woman. "Trouble always managed to find us, Padmé. If it had not been here, it would have been somewhere else. We were overdue for it." If he just turned his wit against those events, they would fade to just a place with loss, not a nightmare. "Honestly, though, your world is beautiful. Artistic city designs set against so much open, natural space? It's a far cry from many places we've been." That 'we' was not just him and his Master, but himself and Anakin.

"We like to think so," Padmé replied with a flash of a smile for the praise, remembering how Anakin had said much the same, "but thank you. 

"And thank you for breakfast, also. It's really quite good." 

Anakin blinked at his plate, blinked at Padmé, and lifted his eyes to his Master. "...you cooked? She's right, it is good." 

Obi-Wan chuckled. "Well, I had to impress your girlfriend somehow," he teased, and made certain the bond carried the complete disinterest and the light-hearted amusement. "Thank you both." He worked on finishing his portion then.

Anakin could almost taste the light playfulness, the genial.... disinterest?... and his head tilted, puzzled. It was lazy, open, easy to feel and read the truth of across the bond between them, but... what? 

Padmé was... everything wonderful in the galaxy. The curve of her cheek when she smiled, the snap of fire in her dark eyes when she was determined, the way her voice could shift from as cold as ice to the soft lap of waves on a rocky shore, the glow of her presence in the Force -- how could Obi-Wan feel so idly disinterested in her?

"You're welcome, Master," he managed to reply before the silence stretched out too much, purely by rote.

"Do you mind cleaning, since I cooked?" Obi-Wan asked Anakin. "I think I would like to explore as much as I can while the day is fair-weathered."

"Not a bit. Enjoy it, Master," Anakin replied, not at all secretly delighted that his Master would be leaving them alone until weather or darkness chased him inside again. 

+++++

As she put the last of the dishes away, Padmé turned to look over her shoulder at Anakin, smiling at him and hoping he couldn't feel -- or see -- how nervous she actually felt. "So now that you're actually awake again," she said, trying for lightly teasing, "any opinions on what we should do with our day?" 

"Spend it with you, of course," he said, giving her a smile.

Something about that backwards glance, it made his heart thump a little differently. He couldn't even register what it was, but she looked even more beguiling than ever.

His eyes flicked down a little, their bright blue a little smoky before he looked back to her, the terrifying power he sometimes burned with (even when he wasn't doing anything in particular with it) receding behind the half-bashful smile and the sheer way he looked at her. She couldn't do anything but smile back, delight at the honest and open response pouring through her, and she finished her turn to go back to him. 

"I like that plan," she agreed, looking up at him, the unfamiliar, almost uncontrollable urge to kiss him, to pull him to her and not let go rising in her chest and her throat and nerves like the tide, and her hands were on his skin before she remembered how much he wasn't wearing. 

It felt like coming into contact with live current, except it didn't hurt at all. 

Anakin breathed in deeply, as the sense of her, all bright and pulsing changed, shifting to something different, something he wasn't certain he knew, except it made him want to be close to her, somewhere soft. He licked his lips as her hands rested on his skin, and he leaned his head down toward her, hoping for one of her exquisite kisses.

Sex, he understood. This? This was something far more intimate, a need and desire to be completed by her, to become one being for as long as they could.

It was the easiest thing in the world to kiss him now, to press closer to him and slide her hands up around the back of his neck, linking her fingers there to hold him closer, and to be lost in the taste and feeling of his mouth on hers, under hers... it wasn't... urgent, quite, but it felt like she could do this forever, like this was all there was in the galaxy. Just the two of them, together. 

Anakin gave a whispering moan into the kiss as his soul settled more firmly with the touch of her lips, the hold of her hands on his neck. This was what he'd been seeking for too long, the love and care that her every touch promised. He could hold her forever, wanted to even. Tasting her mouth was a taste of bliss, and her presence in the Force beckoned him closer.

She pressed closer, lifting up on her toes a little more at that low whimper, the feeling of his body so close to hers even more intoxicatingly wonderful now than it had been -- would it get better every time? Would she survive if it did? -- as they kissed, though if he didn't get his arms wrapped around her soon, she was going to consider biting him... 

She kept having to stretch to keep the kiss… that wasn't right. He dipped a little more, arms coming around her like she wished for, only his hands closed under her backside and he lifted, drawing her in against his body even more, lifting her up so the kiss could last even longer.

She was … warm and spice and perfection along his senses, and he just kept falling into her. He didn't even mind that Obi-Wan was all but gone from his mind; this was for he and his angel right now.

Movement, Anakin lifting her, and she laughed with delighted surprise (and somehow without breaking the kiss) even as she latched thighs and calves onto his legs and shivered a little at the feel of strong muscle all through his legs. She wasn't a waif, and stood a little more than chin-height on him... but he lifted her as though she weighed nothing. Wait, he -- "Anakin," against his mouth, "your arm, is -- " 

"It's fine," he said. "I'm holding you, all light and air," he teased, before moving to catch her lips again. He did, or at least the bottom one, pulling at it lightly with his lips before letting go. "Though, I wouldn't mind holding you a little more comfortably somewhere flat and soft," he admitted.

She felt herself shiver violently, her hands sliding to clutch on his shoulders, hunger and desire almost ripping through her, flooding her with heat, and she nodded her agreement, words lost to her. She could address the assembled Galactic Senate with perfect steadiness, and those few simple words left her completely speechless, almost breathless? 

Anakin gave a smile that was verging on smirk, for the way she was affected. It was only fair; she'd been stealing his breath since he was nine years old. Nor did he put her down, merely turning to go to the stairs and carry her back to bed. He wanted more kissing, more quiet touches, to be held and hold her.

He didn't even think of actual sex as part of this, too caught up in the feel of her against his bare chest.

"Anakin Skywalker," she said as he started to walk -- still holding her up! As though he wasn't injured still! -- towards the stairs, "put me down, you ridiculous man, you're going to hurt yourself!" 

"No, I'm not," he told her, confident and easy. He felt so much better than when they had landed, and it was nothing to augment his grip with a light Force grasp all around her, carrying her physically and psychically. "Better?"

There was something pressed all against her, supporting her almost like a repulsor field, except... that was the Force, Anakin's strength of will, holding her, closer than even his arms... "Ani," she whispered -- whispered, because she couldn't manage more than that -- against his mouth, before she kissed him again. 

If he could still think that the short-form of his name meant that she thought of him as a child, she was going to throttle him... when she finished kissing him. Which might be about the same time that the sun went nova. 

The pressure on her fluctuated some, then steadied, as he kissed her back, steadily moving them toward her -- their -- bedroom. He didn't stop kissing her until they were in there, and he set her back on her feet, reluctantly, as he didn't want to mess up her dress by just tumbling down on the bed with her.

Even if a small part of him wanted to do just that, just to hear her fuss playfully at him.

The floor under her felt less substantial than the Force had, but at least she was on her feet again. _Why_ she was, she wasn't entirely certain, until... something in his eyes told her he was being careful with her, and that just made her smile at him more brightly. She flicked a glance at the door, not certain she had heard it close again, then tangled her fingers in his hand to step backwards, alongside the bed, until she could sit down, as far back on it as she could get, then lie back, her eyes never leaving his. 

Anakin gave the door a firmer push with his abilities, just to be sure it would stay closed, before he was following her pull, crawling up onto the bed to prop up on his side next to her.

"Do you know how beautiful you are, Padmé? How perfect you shine?" He asked her softly, reverently.

Yes, she knew she was beautiful, but the way Anakin said it... she shook her head slightly, the reverent worship in his eyes and voice too -- too much, and she cupped her left hand around his cheek. "...when you look at me, I almost do," she answered, before moving enough to kiss him again. 

That kiss drew him down, his hand coming to rest on her opposite hip as he leaned in. He closed his eyes, savoring the feelings and the taste, not letting his eyes distract him. This was all wrapping around him like a soothing blanket, making him steadier than he'd been since she walked back into his life finally.

How was he so beautiful? Padmé cupped his cheek a little tighter, her fingers sliding back behind his jaw as they kissed again. He was just... incredible, and so much everything she hadn't let herself even contemplate wanting, and she shifted to get closer, to get back into closer contact with him. Her other hand was almost pinned under his body, and she slid it free and up his back, the robe under her fingers not a tenth as smooth as his skin had to be.... 

The noise he made was much like a contented cat, at being petted, at being so near her, at all the ways she felt _right_ to him. He moved from this kiss to pressing smaller ones on her jawline, down to her neck, testing what she liked, trying to learn what she wanted, eager for anything she chose to share with him.

That sound was good -- she wanted to hear that sound again, and again -- but then his mouth was on her jaw, soft light pressure that was somehow incredibly good, then on her throat. She heard herself make a softly contented noise as she tipped her head, giving him better access as her hand slid around from his cheek to the back of his neck, holding him in close, want singing through her veins again. 

This, with him, was so different than anything she'd enjoyed with Sabé or her ages-ago child's flirtation with boys. Everywhere he touched her, everywhere the solid strength of his body was pressed to hers, felt like there were flames under her skin... 

Anakin shivered to hear her voice, moving his lips along her throat slowly. He could feel his desires rising, but this was Padmé. Their relationship could only ever be on her terms, and so he forced himself to stay patient, to continue teasing with just his mouth on what skin he could get to. His hand on her hip flexed slightly, holding onto her, one more point to ground himself that this was reality.

She pressed into his hand on her hip, still holding him, her fingers sliding along his back again as his mouth woke her nerves more, had her breath shaking -- and she tugged at him, wanting him as close to her as their clothing would permit, wanting to feel all of that sleek, powerful body on hers.

He looked into her face, pausing against her tug, until he was sure this was what she wanted. He slid over her, his thigh between hers, his hands sliding under her to hold onto her shoulders, and he flexed his body once he was settled, letting them both feel each other through the clothes.

It was almost overpowering, to have the freedom to do this, combined with what his body was awakening toward. The way he was trapping his own cock against her, with all the clothes, was almost maddening but it also felt so perfect.

"I love you," he told her, half-breathless just from touching her this way.

That he'd stopped, looked to her, wonder and want in his gaze, before he'd done what she wanted, sank deep into her chest, clawed and weightless, and then -- 

\-- oh, _perfect_ , so incredible. Solid and heavy, his hold on her so gentle even as it was so tight. She gasped at that first rock of his body, trying to capture everything about how he felt and failing, and then there were his words, the light in his eyes as he looked at her, as though she was everything he could ever want... 

"I love you, Anakin," she answered, hearing her voice as breathless as his, in the half-heartbeat before she realized that the pressure on her thigh was his cock and her hips surged without her intent, lifting and shifting to open her thighs all at once. She couldn't have stopped herself even if she wanted to, and she could feel her heartbeat in her throat and wrists and groin, a sudden wild hammering, time and the world slowing and fading away. 

A choked, needy sound escaped him at feeling her press against him, adding to the sensations that were so new and intense. This was more than he had ever dreamed of, and he hardly even knew what to do next. 

Kissing. Kissing he understood and enjoyed, so he captured her lips again, even though that meant shifting his body again, bringing them into a long slide with one another, inflaming all his desires again.

His mouth sealed over hers, shutting of the last of the noise she'd made at feeling him slide against her like that, and she kissed him back, not certain if she was trying to steady him or herself, but sure she was failing at it either way. His amazement, his want, were almost things she could taste in the kiss, and she only noticed the way her back and hips had her moving against his body when his fingers closed tighter on her shoulders. Even with that, she couldn't stop. 

He felt those moves, felt it stoke his desire, and found himself falling into her rhythm. Kissing her was a perfect blaze of satisfaction and hunger married to one another. The push of her flesh on his, sliding into a tempo that stoked his needs ever so higher, was maddening yet he ached to never stop. She was beautiful, pulsing against his perceptions in her own desire. Holding her shoulders made it easier to control how he moved with her, even as he was oh so careful of his new hand on her skin.

She wasn't a stranger to desire, but Anakin changed everything, drove her so quickly past the ability to think. She could do nothing but kiss him and ride the rhythm between them, faintly recognize the ache in her breasts and groin, and want him closer yet. 

Why was there so much between them? Her hands slid, catching at the robe, but his arms were along her sides and his hands had her shoulders in that careful, powerful hold, and she couldn't move it. 

Anakin froze at her motion, eyes on her face as he did. "Angel?" he asked her softly, needing her guidance and reassurance.

Love tightened a vise around her throat at the sound of his voice, the startled way he'd frozen in her arms, the way his eyes searched hers, and understanding slapped her in almost the same moment. The Jedi weren't necessarily celibate, she knew, but if Anakin had been as fixated on her as he'd shown her he was... 

She really was the experienced one here. She had to take care of him, now. "Ani, love," she answered, soft, smiling at him, "I want everything with you. Absolutely everything." 

He relaxed some, and took a gentle kiss from her. When he pulled back, his eyes were so serious. "Everything?" he asked, to be certain. He would explore this with her… but her wishes were his law in what they did.

She chased his mouth, kissing him again -- just as gentle as his kiss had been (almost funny, that, given how wildly they had been kissing a moment before -- for a little while before she looked back into his eyes, all of that concern sinking straight into her heart, her soul, with the knowledge of how much he loved her. How much she loved him in return. "Everything, Anakin. Everything either of us want, my love..." 

Anakin smiled for her then, before pulling her as he rolled to his back, getting her above him. "Then, my angel, show me what we want to share now," he invited her, before bucking against her body from this angle, and oh that felt good.

His smile was like the sun coming up. 

Ridiculous thought, but it was the only thing that seemed even half true, with that radiant light in his eyes, his face open and easy to read. Curiosity, invitation -- the same startled flare of pleasure that lashed through her as his hips pushed up against her body, and her hands flexed on his shoulders. "Yes," she answered, soft -- ragged, a little -- before she stretched herself along his body, her right hand sliding under his shoulder, weight on her elbow, and kissed him again. 

His lips, first, for a little while, as her left hand slipped to spread on his collarbone, the feel of his skin throwing a shock through her all over again as her fingers slid under the edge of the robe. 

Hadn't she been trying to get that off of him? Mmm, no matter now, she could get to his skin, which was really what she'd wanted. 

He kissed her with all the intensity he used in life, his tongue flicking along her lips, against her tongue, delving into her mouth to taste her. He brought both of his hands down to her hips, wriggling awkwardly to get his arms out of her way… but wanting to hold her there. He could not help but rock his hips against her, the friction of cloth adding to the purely physical sensations teasing his cock.

For a moment, she wasn't sure he needed to be shown, not with that kiss and the hold on her hips -- his body moving under her -- making her senses reel. But she wanted to explore him, wanted to learn all the taste of his skin, all the reactions she could draw from him... and he wanted her to. Slowly, she pulled out of the kiss to flick her tongue along the line of his jaw, her lips settling on his throat a few moments later, her fingers stroking on the skin of his shoulder. 

"Padmé," he whispered, low and husky, as she took complete control of him, her mouth and hands driving him madly over a small edge, one where he didn't need to think any longer. He stretched his throat out to her, offering the length of it to her lips and tongue. 

She hummed to him, soft, unwilling to stop what she was doing long enough to talk, the aching need coiling low in her groin almost set aside from her attention as she learned the taste of his skin, the smoothness of it and the edge of sweat. Even here was solid muscle, testament to the rigors of his life... just like the skin under her hand lay sleek over planes of muscle. Her lips found the curve of muscle that joined neck and shoulder and she licked once, sharply, then sucked there. Had to be careful not to use too much suction, it was too high, too visible... and Anakin was not helping that resolve as he pressed his shoulder up to her mouth.

"Feels… intense…" he managed to say, one hand sliding up from hip to the small of her back, holding her against him.

Her spine bowed at the touch, flattening her belly along his, still moving a little, as she answered, hearing her voice all husky murmur, "I know, love... to me, too," and dragged her mouth from that spot down to his collarbone instead, kissing along it, looking for the places the nerves ran closest to his skin. 

The sound from him was not intelligible at the way that sent his blood to racing, and his hips bucked far more insistently against her, the flesh hand on her back flattening against her while the new hand clutched at her hip… and then relaxed swiftly rather than risk hurting her.

"No, hold me," Padmé told him, not afraid of the strength in that hand, not afraid of _his_ strength, before she lapped at his collarbone, exactly where she'd started getting that perfect little noise, and let herself start to mark his skin, as alert as she knew how to be to his reaction. She didn't want to, wouldn't, hurt him, but... 

Another strangled noise greeted her at that, his body surging against hers, as he did hold her, tight and needfully. "Padmé," he whispered, not sure what to say or to ask but wanting more, just like that. The slight pain of it mingled hard in the pleasure, surging all through his body.

"Good, love?" she asked, soft, checking -- though the writhe up under her said 'yes', she had to know -- as the way he held her drove _her_ a little more wild. "More?" 

"Please?" he asked, looking up at her with eyes gone dark in desire and need. "Please do it again," he added, rocking against her slowly, loving the pressure, the growing ache in his cock one more layer of sensation to revel in.

"Oh, Ani," she breathed at that rock of his hips, the deep blue of his eyes slicing straight through her, instincts keeping her moving along with him, "yes, my darling." 

She licked the faint mark she'd already left, then went back to it, her fingers flexing slowly on his skin, luxuriating in the feel of his skin and body under her hands, his skin under her mouth.... and in knowing that even after they had cleaned up and slept, he would still be marked from her. 

Anakin's voice kept mewling and rumbling at the new sensations, twisting and arching when he could to give her more of his skin. He was content… no, still in awe of her… to pet along her back and hip through her dress, but he pushed up once, twisting until he could get the robe off his shoulders and let her have all of his torso. 

She'd never thought of herself as particularly aggressive, or possessive, but Anakin's noises, the almost helplessly eager shifts of his body, were waking both in her, and when he stripped the robe off for her, her purr was purely triumphant. Her hands slid over his back in a long stroke, while he was still arched up, then ran all over him as he laid back down for her. She'd left marks across both of his collarbones now, over his upper chest, and had learned that he would nearly keen for tongue or lips over his nipples... now she had opinions on the lines of his ribs. 

She reduced him to gasping, choked breaths as she started her new assault on his senses. There were a few giggles, though, as she dipped lower, finding his ticklish spots, but even that felt exceptionally good, a counterpoint to the heat thrumming through him. The lower she went on his body, the more his hands roved up her back, until his flesh hand was tangling in her hair.

Padmé liked the feel of that, of his hand sliding along her scalp, fingers tangling in the mass of her hair, as she traced the lines of his abdomen, braced on her elbows at either side of his waist, her hands sliding along his sides. She'd folded herself back, more than slid down, but that had still dragged her belly and ribs along... along his cock -- which was _incredibly_ and unfairly distracting, really! 

His breathing hitched with a little whining note to it at that new pressure and contact. He looked down at her, and that only worsened his ability to breathe, because … FORCE, she was so beautiful, her features perfect and her eyes haunting him with how much she looked like she wanted him.

"I love you," he told her helplessly.

"I know," she answered, looking up at him... and her breath stopped for a moment, the blue of his eyes almost black with how he wanted her, his face, oh, his face -- she remembered when that look had made her uncomfortable, now it only set her ablaze. The helpless note in his voice was the only thing wrong, and she slid her hands under his back to hold him tighter, her thumbs up over his hips. "I love you, Anakin. I love you so much.

"It's okay, I've got you..." 

"Forever, Angel," he reassured her, giving himself as fully to her as he ever had given himself to his life as a Jedi, maybe even more. She wouldn't hurt him, cut him down, tell him he wasn't good enough.

There was something in his eyes that was almost frightening in its resolution, but she ignored that and smiled at him, "I know. And you have me, love. Forever." 

She just kissed along his side for several moments, rubbing her cheek over solid muscle, until his fingers were flexing in her hair again, then dipped her head lower, pressing a kiss into the hollow of his hip and breathing the deeper, richer scent of him, of his arousal, with a flare of want that tightened her hands on him. Why had she picked a dress and not a top and skirt, she wanted out of some of this, and it was all a piece!

"Padmé?" He questioned, feeling something in her flare and change to annoyance. "What? Did I do something wrong?" His voice was unsure, worried, as he asked that.

She blinked, stunned, and lifted up, one hand going from his skin to his cheek in an instant, almost as quick as her "What? No, Ani, not at all, why would you think that?" spilled from her lips, soothing. A moment later she was stretched up along his side, pressed close, looking down at his eyes. "Shh, darling, no..." 

"Your presence changed… annoyed. I'm used to annoyed," Anakin told her, before he flashed a smile to reassure her. "I like the way you feel, against me, and in my mind," he said softly. "But I got worried at that."

She shook her head, contemplated hitting Obi-Wan over the head with something heavy, and kissed her beloved long and slow and thorough, settling out of her pique with herself and back into the throbbing tide of how badly she wanted this man, pushing back into his hand, until the tense uncertainty melted back out of him. Only then did she lift her head again and smile at him. "The only thing I'm annoyed with, Ani, is this _dress_ , and how annoying it's going to be to get off..." 

Anakin got a look of mischief on his face. "It means you'd be bare to me?" he asked playfully, before focusing on the fasteners his fingers had found. With a careful twist and pull of the Force, he began opening those fasteners, watching her face the whole time.

That was her Ani, all mischief in the smile -- though she was half-surprised that he hadn't had one of those moments of shyness that were so startling and endearing all at once -- and then she felt the catches start to give, even though she knew perfectly well where his hands were, and they were nowhere near them. 

He was -- she shivered, a helpless smile breaking across her lips, as she realized that he was using the Force to open her dress. "Oh." she murmured, surprised and soft, "well, then, that helps, doesn't it?" 

"It does," he said thankful that she did not seem a bit upset with what he was doing. He loosened them all, watching her reaction, reveling in it. "Hold the skirts up and move to your knees?" He suggested. "Then I think I can get it off of you."

She kissed him again before she did move, dragging the skirts to where they didn't feel like she was on them any more, picking herself up onto her knees -- her hand sliding along his skin, nodding at him. Ridiculous to feel nervous, this was her Anakin, and also, she knew that she was beautiful... but it was there anyway. 

He gathered the dress, catching it in his Force grip, concentrating on pulling it up, little by little, while his eyes devoured the skin it revealed to him. When she raised her arms for him to pull the dress completely away, he slid the cloth fully away from her, and discarded the dress on the floor, gaze locked on her perfection.

"Angel," he whispered, seeing her in just her small clothes now, fascinated by how he could not actually see where the sun marks on her faded to paleness anywhere; did she let the sun kiss her skin completely sometimes? Or did she just not receive enough sun to make a true tan? "Absolutely perfect."

It was strange, there being no hands on her dress as it lifted off her body, but Anakin's eyes were a weight all their own. He looked at her as though she were -- were a goddess, or really the angel he called her, not just a woman, and.... That whisper, as he sent the dress away, popped her nervousness like a soap-bubble, making her laugh in sheer relief as she dropped back down to kiss him again. 

Skin. 

All of his skin against her chest, hot and sleek, and for a long moment she couldn't think at all. 

Anakin lost his breath at the touch of her body along his, skin to skin, before he finally brought his hands up and held her close to his body, feeling the warmth of her with his natural hand. 

"I could touch you like this forever," he told her, running his hand along her ribs, up to her shoulder, before he leaned in to kiss her.

"Yes," she whispered, just before he kissed her, the word at least starting her breathing again, her arms wrapping around him, in under his shoulders, the shiver she could feel running down her body not from the cool of the room -- how could it be, when Anakin's heated skin was pressed so tight to hers? 

Anakin drew away from the kiss, then brought his hands down her sides, around, to where the palms were brushing the sides of her breasts hesitantly. The weight and heat of them on his chest was making him wonder how sensitive her nipples were, and he watched her face as he used his flesh hand to get his thumb between them. He brushed his thumb slowly over the nipple, feeling the texture of it and the areola as different from the rest of her breast.

She smiled at him, shifting her weight into his hands, encouraging him -- she wasn't made of glass, he didn't have to be hesitant with her, and oh, she **wanted** his touch -- and then she shuddered at the drag of his thumb on that tight, ridiculously sensitive skin, hearing the noise she made only too late to do anything about it. She never liked that particular high little yip... but Anakin's smile made it worth making, and she wanted more of that. 

"I like that," he told her. "That noise." He pressed his touch a little more firmly against her skin, running his thumb in circles. "I like how you feel. I love you. I love everything about you."

She mewled at the stroke of his thumb... everything about his hands were strong, calloused, firm... fighter's hands, marked -- oh, _oh_ , that was good, that rub he could definitely do again, and again -- from his lightsaber, and tried to get her wits back again, her smile flashing down at him. "Y-you would, oh, Ani, that, yes. I'm not fond o-of it, but.... That you like it helps...." 

"Only fair, for the noises I've been making. Didn't know my voice went that high any more," he teased, moving his thumb to just stroke around, not over, the nipple. "What makes you feel that good, Padmé? What makes you lose words and just make those little noises?"

She'd had plans, she thought wryly. Plans about her mouth and his cock, there, she'd thought it evenly this time, but with his smile like that, that intent question that was half-hopeful and half-focused... She moved, her grip on him pulling him with her, back up over her, as she replied, "Why don't you find out, Ani?" 

Anakin gave a low, throaty noise at that, at winding up above her… and he noticed the pants he still had on. That made him move away from her; it wasn't fair for her to be only in her small clothes and he wasn't. The pants were shucked swiftly, and then he settled over her, one knee between her legs, supporting himself on the new arm, so he could start exploring her skin as intently as she had explored his.

She had caught at him when he tried to move away, realized what he was doing, and let him go. She licked at her lips at seeing him almost nude, the silhouette of his cock under his small clothes drying out her mouth with want, and then he was up over her again. Not pressed close enough, but now his knee and thigh between her legs was more a promise than before, and her arms wrapped around him as she gave him the line of her throat. 

He traced the skin gently with his tongue, then grazed his teeth lightly over it, so careful, to see how she reacted to that. His free hand petted along her ribs, up to her breast again. Now he could cup it, kneading slightly with his fingertips at the softness over the toned muscle.

Could she be any more the image and shape of all of his desires?

She hummed, pushing up against that so-light brush of his teeth -- she liked that, she always had -- and his hand made her shift to press more into that touch, too. He felt so good, and the... the rapture in his touch, the reverent want, was more than enough to make the care he was taking with her the most incredible thing she had ever felt. "Ani, yes," she murmured, as she moved enough to wrap one calf over his and hold him that way, too. 

"Oh…" The exclamation came when her shift pulled them closer, and his cock felt so strained, hard and aching, as they moved. He took a deep breath, then rocked against her on purpose, with so little separating them now. His hand was still, and he had moved to be able to look at her as he did that, needing to know if it was good for her, this sliding grind of their bodies.

She had no idea what noise she'd made, knew her head had gone back, her nails had curved into his skin, and her body clenching on nothing had made her whine. She opened her eyes again, looking at him, her lips so bone-dry that she had to lick at them. His eyes followed the dart of that tongue, and he leaned in, chasing it, claiming a new kiss. Boldly, he set them back to rocking against one another, letting the mind-blowing friction and pressure build his hunger to new heights, his free hand on her breast beginning its exploration again. 

This felt so good, she was driving him almost mad with need, and he could only think of finding the right way to please her.

She kissed him back, hungry, intent, trying to drag him closer -- the hard press of his chest against her breasts so different than the curves of another woman's body, the cut slim line of his hip against her thigh glorious -- so that she could feel him more. She was almost embarrassed about how soaked her small clothes had to be, to feel that slick on her skin every time his cock pushed against her, but he felt so incredible, especially now that he wasn't being cautious, now that she could feel that intoxicating strength... 

"Padmé… angel… " His voice was tense as the pressure of his own arousal was fast undoing his ability to hold back. "Feels good… but… painful? Good kind…" He did half smile, but there was tension to it, as he tried to cope with more physical sensations than he had ever known at once.

"Yes," she breathed, holding him, her hips rolling against his, and again, clinging to his back, "I know, Ani, love, you feel more than good, you're wonderful, oh, sweetheart...." 

He moaned softly, pressing harder against her, shifting to cup his arms under her. Now, he gave fully over to his instincts, rocking with her, until his throat tightened around a cry, and his arms spasmed tightly.

"Padmé…."

It wasn't her own physical pleasure that sent her slamming into orgasm, but the feel of Anakin's, and the worship in his voice. That took her over, wiping out the world, wiping out everything but him, her Anakin... 

He rested his forehead against the space of her neck and shoulder, his arms tight, his breathing labored as the world exploded in ways that left him stunned and overwhelmed. He'd known what it was to get himself off, but this?

Transcended everything he'd ever dreamed of, because it was with her, his beautiful angel.

Held in his arms, his face against her neck, her breath as labored as his felt against her, she clung to him, shaking, trying to come back to her senses and failing for long, long moments. 

Slowly, his body relaxed, with him sliding back, getting his sticky small clothes as much off her as he could and still rest his head on her shoulder. "I'm sorry… I think I'm supposed to take better care of you, not get lost in it like that."

"Oh, _hush_ , Anakin," Padmé told him, soft and gentle, moving to press kisses to his cheek, her hand stroking down his back -- now that she could at least move with something like grace -- as she shifted under him, making a quietly content noise. "If we didn't get lost in it, we'd be doing something wrong." 

"Okay," he said, just resting there, feeling the complete peace around them in this moment. "I love you."

"And I love you," she answered, soft, petting him again, rubbing her cheek against his hair. She was quiet for several moments, then murmured, still soft, "That was... wonderful, Ani. And a lot of fun, too." 

Anakin shifted so he could smile up at her. "Yeah… it was. Both."

++++

Obi-Wan made it in shortly after sunset, but did not venture upstairs so much as take up a seat on the porch. He'd flicked occasional reassurances to Anakin when the young man had pressed against the bond. He'd not wanted to intrude, and from how frequently he'd had to shield, he'd been right not to.

He could hear them inside now, enjoying each other's company, and knew he probably could intrude, but he was loathe to do so. He did not envy their happiness. He would not make himself an obstacle to it. He would, in fact, do all he could to aid it.

If the Force allowed, Anakin would never suffer again, for his short-sightedness. No, he was here to finally let go. Obi-Wan had faced his pain, knew that he could not keep sublimating it under his own awareness, only to have it flare sharply when prodded by the outside world. And that was what he'd been working on all day. 

He'd meditated, he'd ran, he'd even gone for an endurance swim, purging toxins through exercise. His goal in being on Naboo was now solely focused on letting Qui-Gon's memory rest, accepting his failures there and with Anakin, so that he could boldly be the Jedi he was meant to be. More than that, Anakin needed him to let go, and focus on the now.

The Order needed him, and the war would soon redefine how. He owed Padmé Anakin's happiness, and his own willingness to truly move on. Maybe he'd even think to tell her his gratitude.

Or he'd just let it show in making certain Anakin was available to her when she needed him.

For now, he put thoughts of the war aside. He put aside concerns over the Code. Now, he was going to settle in and try to undo ten years of bad habits while helping Anakin recover from his brush with the Dark Side. Later, there would be time for everything else.


End file.
